


Owl's Party Favor

by Leaveitbrii



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Tokyo Ghoul AU, i guess, lets be real
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-05-28 06:52:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leaveitbrii/pseuds/Leaveitbrii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris thought he was good at first impressions, not that he wasn't, but he should've stayed home today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Date

**Author's Note:**

> I keep at it with these AUs and I'm literally going to throw myself off a cliff one day. Thank you [AJ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zach_stone/pseuds/zach_stone) for helping me figure out how to write thangs
> 
> Warning: Gore, blood

"I'll come with you to Etcetera."

Chris shakes his head, resting heavily on his elbow, chin tucked into his hand. He taps the top of his knee, trying to ignore the low grumble festering in his stomach.

Emily stares at him from across the table, eyes narrowing more and more with each passing second. Chris is surprised she's even here today, on Tuesday, when Emily didn't have class until tomorrow. Matt might've texted her. Matt needed to mind his business.

The courtyard is quiet, morning air blowing by as students stumble pass, some yawning, some pouring energy drinks into cups, others looking as though death came for them in their sleep but they still have a schedule to keep.

Emily clears her throat. Chris looks at her.

"It's been almost two months, Chris."

Chris rolls his eyes. "I'm never telling Matt anything again. It's not that bad."

"I can literally see your wrinkles." Emily gestures to his forehead, then points at the growing dark circles under his eyes. "You look like fucking shit, Christopher. You need to go."

"Em-"

"Don't 'Em' me." Emily snaps, eyebrows arching into a frown. "You're a danger to yourself and others around you."

All Chris is hearing is 'do you want to eat your friends, stop being a fuck baby' which is more or less what Emily is saying without being as crass as she sometimes is when she's convincing Chris that his anatomy doesn't work the way he wants it to.

Chris holds up his coffee cup, neglected and cold. The barista at their library's coffee shop made shit coffee but Chris didn't feel like going home or to Matt's, where he would be pestered and prodded much like how he is now. Coffee was good for suppressing the hunger but it wasn't a long term solution. 

Emily snatches the coffee from his hands, pries the lid off and pours it on the ground beside her, ruby lips pursed. She reaches across the table and smacks him upside the head. 

"I'm serious, Chris." Emily hisses.

"I know. Sorry." Chris sighs, rubbing the tender skin. "I'll go tonight."

Emily lifts an eyebrow at him. "I'll go with you."

"Em, no. Okay? I'm a big boy. I can go."

Emily stares at him, each ticking second revealing how little she trusts him. Chris knows she worries about him, has since he was younger. They were different, Chris a little more self aware while Emily didn't mind picking apart food from friend, didn't mind the rush that came with ripping a beating heart from someone's chest, listening to the dying gasp, watch the light fade from wide, terrified eyes.

Chris would call her heartless but it's hard when you're at the top of the food chain and your friends are your livestock. They were predators, man eaters since birth with the perfect disguise. It reminded him of the Land Before Time where Little Foot befriends Chomper and Chomper's mother tells him not to play with his food.

"Promise me."

"Ugh," Chris groans. "Don't you have other people to pester? Like Mike? Ashley? Doesn't she have a new blog post?"

"Don't change the subject." Emily snaps, impatience seeping through every syllable. "Promise me."

"Okay." Chris concedes, lifting his hands up. "I'll go after class. Tonight. Promise."

Emily holds out a pinky, a deep maroon, clipped short and smooth. Chris grasps it with his own, squeezing softly and Emily sighs again, forcing a smile onto her face. It looks painful, judging by the grimace that follows Chris guesses it was. 

Emily didn't like to have these conversations with him and Chris didn't like listening to them but he'd rather it be her than Ashley.

"Since you're on campus, walk me to class?"

Emily clicks her tongue. "Fine. I have to meet Jess anyway."

Chris grabs his bag from the ground, lifting it onto his shoulder with a wide yawn. He knuckles the corners of his eye, blinking rapidly as he adjusts his glasses. 

"How is that going? You and her?"

"It's going." Emily answers, rising to her feet. She slides her leather tote onto her shoulder, righting the loose folds of her cardigan.

"Ok? But, what does that mean?" Chris narrows his eyes at her.

"It means," Emily smirks. "Mind your fucking business, Chris."

"Ooh geeze, yes ma'am." Chris mock salutes, earning a low chuckle. "I'm glad you two got over.. The thing."

"Same." Emily agrees, rounding the stone table they were sitting at. She sides up to Chris, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. Her gaze is warm when it lands on him, eyes glistening a soft brown in the sunlight. 

Emily links their arms together, pressing close to him as they walk. It's how Chris knows they're actually friends because Emily barely touches anyone unless she wants to fight them, or maim. Chris has only seen Emily fight once with her fists, in high school, and it was like watching a bear manhandle a bird.

"Jess said you're covering her shift Thursday." Emily mentions.

Chris nods, "Yeah. She said you guys have a date or whatever."

"Or whatever." Emily snorts, amused.

They climb the old steps towards Hilgbe Hall, passing a large fountain that's bottom was blackened by pennies. Jess said if you threw a penny in and it managed to hit the bottom, your wish would come true. Chris tried, once, and judging by the fact that he still woke up with the same nauseating hunger meant his penny did not reach the bottom.

A group of women hurry past them, hands folded over their mouths as they giggle, scarves wrapped snuggle around their necks. Chris' nose twitches, the soft smell of jasmine and buttered popcorn causing his stomach to churn. Emily squeezes his arm. Chris thinks he should've stayed home. 

Chris' class is on the fifth floor of Hilgbe Hall; take the stairs because the elevator at 8am is impossible to ride in. He sits in the back, squinting at the sun's glare peaking through the glass. Emily sits beside him, nose turned up, and Chris knows she's staying for his benefit than that of the students filing in.

Emily told him once it was a matter of time before they were outed as Ghouls and the human friends they've made would turn on them because it's what "humans do in the face of death". Chris asked if she would kill them, Emily told him if it meant surviving but Chris has watched Emily hunt, watched her toy and torture. She may mourn their life after but it's similar to a cat regretting eating a mouse.

Chris fiddles around on his phone, scrolling through Ashley's blog, Predators Anonymous. It was a safe space for ghouls, where they could go to exchange information and experienced under the disguise of fictional writing. His eyes narrow upon reading of Doves infiltrating sector 7, which was close to here. Chris glances over at Emily, who is reading over his shoulder.

"Mike said the Goats were moving."

"That's still a stupid name." Chris bitches.

"Tell it to the art snobs who run it." Emily remarks. "Sector 7 is close to here, but I wouldn't worry."

"Who said I was worried?" Chris locks his phone. "The Doves never come this far. They track the Goats and try to capture one of them and fail and it repeats."

There had been more murders occurring recently, starting from Vancouver, bodies found in alleyways of New York ripped apart, heads being left on doorstops in Maine. Chris wasn't sure what was happening in the east side but it was getting closer and closer. 

"Jack is involved. He'll go wherever the blood is." 

Chris taps the top of the desk, smoothing the pad of his finger along the surface. It was disturbing, hearing about Dove sightings. Ever since Japan's CCG announced the discovery of the Aogiri Tree, a ghoul organization, the U.S seemed to be on edge about how to protect humans from Ghouls as well. 

Old murder crimes were reopened and polished and weekly updates were posted to CCG's website in regards to newly discovered ghouls and a reward system on any helpful information. The U.S tried sectioning off states, setting up wards within larger cities but it was hard getting humans to join. They wanted to be protected, not to fight.

Regardless, sector 9, Philadelphia, unlike other parts Pennsylvania was relatively easy to live as a ghoul unlike sector 26, Atlanta, or sector 105, L.A. Chris had never met a Dove but he's heard enough about them from Mike and Emily to know he never wants to.

"I wonder why they're moving so close." Emily ponders. "The Goats never come this close unless they found something of interest."

"There's nothing in Philadelphia. It's Philadelphia."

"You say that about literally every state." Emily sighs. Chris opens his mouth to speak but his professor, Cathcart, is walking into the classroom, white hair slicked back, eyes steely and focused. He gives a friendly smile as he approaches his desk. Chris watches him setup, fingers tapping rapidly over the computer keyboard.

He liked Cathcart, liked his grandpa sense of humor and the knit sweaters he wore often but Chris would sometimes feel those cool brown eyes focus on him during a lecture, knowing and patient like a crocodile lying in wait. Chris didn't want trouble, he just wanted to graduate. 

"Your teacher is you in ten years."

"Fuck, Em, he's like fifty eight."

Emily cocks an eyebrow at him. "As I said."

"You're so mean. I'm only 19." Chris pouts.

"You barely take care of yourself. You're going to look just like professor Papi when you hit 29." Emily giggles behind her hand.

A few more students file inside before Cathcart cuts on the projector, a man dressed in a Union uniform standing at attention. Chris can already feel the snore building in his throat. It wasn't that he disliked history but the inside of his eyelids were definitely more interesting.

Emily takes notes for him, studious even in classes that weren't hers. Chris watches her write, blinking slow and tired. She shoves the notebook in his face once class is finished, a sneer working its way onto her face. Emily calls him a bum, Chris agrees.

"Remember. You promised." Emily reminds him, trailing behind him into the hallway. "I'm serious, Chris. I don't want to force you to eat but don't fucking try me."

Chris has experienced that before, last winter when he was set on never eating a human again. Emily had kicked his apartment door in with wild blackened red eyes, silvery tentacles sprouting from the back of her waist like snakes. 

"You moved next door to me for that reason. I get it. No bullshit." Chris sighs, scratching at the side of his nose. "I don't break promises, Em."

Emily rolls her eyes, "Right."

Chris holds the door to the stairs for her, Emily storming by with her hands locked across her chest. She spins on her heel, tapping impatiently, lips pinched into a thin line. Chris waits, door closing behind him. Footsteps sound from above them, stairs creaking as students hurry down them. Emily's expression softens.

"We're friends, Chris."

"Yeah, I know." Chris tells her, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He reaches out to touch her arm, eyes blinking up to watch kids stumble down the stairs. Emily steps away from him, fingers curled around the strap of her tote. She glares at a girl who tries to cut her off to the stairs. The girl freezes, stuttering out a weak "sorry". 

Chris almost smiles, hooking his arm with Emily's. He tries to shoot the girl an apologetic look but Emily is tugging him down the stairs, expression dismissive and stoic. The silence between them is palpable, minutes of quiet thoughts passing through. Chris could call Emily his best friend and most days she's more understanding than Ashley and maybe it's because they grew up together, maybe it's because they were family and always had been.

"Heard you have a hot date?" Emily inquires.

"Man, Matt is giving out all the business." Chris mumbles, nodding his head. He had a date, tomorrow night, with Matt's roommate, Josh. Chris would like to say they met on ideal, romcom terms but it went more like Josh answering the door at 7am in nothing but the tightest pair of briefs Chris had ever seen and Chris staring way too hard and way too long before Matt arrived to save him from himself. 

They barely had a conversation beyond Josh leaving for class, shooting a crooked smile Chris' way as they pass. But eventually Josh shoved a crinkled up sheet of paper into Chris' hands and said 'call me'. Matt laughed the entire time.

"He's hot." Emily mentions.

God yes. "Yeah. Matt wouldn't have ugly roommates."

"True, true." Emily agrees.

Jess is waiting outside Hilgbe, legs folded underneath her as she types on her phone. She's sitting on a bench, surrounded by different groups of people talking. A pair of dark sunglasses sit on her head, blonde hair braided back. Jess' nose twitches once they exit, immediately looking up, pale complexion brightening with a soft tint of pink.

Chris waves at her, releasing Emily's arm. Emily turns to him. They exchange a look. Jess smiles knowingly from where she sits, shooting finger guns at him. 

"I'll keep it." Chris tells Emily. "Don't think first date would go that well if I'm chomping on his insides."

It's a bad joke, considering the glare Emily shoots him. He pats her shoulder.

"I'll keep it, ok?"

A look of doubt crosses Emily's face but she nods, lips twitching into a small smile. Emily makes her way over to Jess, Chris follows the line students making their way across the courtyard. He buys another coffee, sips it throughout the day when heads keep turning each time a vicious growl erupts from his stomach. His mind refuses to cooperate, half listening to lectures, half categorizing each major artery in his professor's body. Chris skips most of his classes, locking himself in bathroom stalls when he has to gnaw on his fingers to stop from yanking out someone's jugular. He bites to the bone, hand trembling from pain. 

There is no comfort when his fingers heal back, slower than usual, crude stitches of cells melding back together.

Chris trudges home, nose buried in the neck of his turtle neck. His are nostrils flared, unable to stop the deep inhale that tickles at his tongue, his ribs, the watering sickness that fills his mouth when people are near. Emily was right. He's an idiot. 

Chris calls Mike once he's back in his apartment, slumping down to the floor as his back hits the door, jaw clenched tight. 

"Hey, man. Just got out of class." Mike answers, voice pleasant and deep.

"Because I'm afraid of Emily actually killing me-"

"God, if this is about what I think it is about, she will kill you." Mike muses.

"Mikeee." Chris groans.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just saying. I dated her." Mike laughs into the receiver. "Speaking of, I heard you have a date?"

"News travel fast." Chris sighs.

"Sure does. No wonder you're not putting this off as much. Want me to come with you? Why couldn't you find a nice ghoul girl? Hunt together. It's the hottest thing, man. Watching the blood and-"

"Fucking.. Jesus, Mike."Chris interrupts, kicking out his legs. "Just. Meet me there please?"

"I'm just sayin'," Mike snickers. "Nice to know I'm your first choice."

Honestly Mike was his only choice. He kept it simple, would comment on new video games coming out and ask how Matt was doing. Simple.

"Your ex-girlfriend watches me eat. It's creepy."

Mike laughs again. 

"It's so she makes sure you swallow. My mom used to do it with me when I was.. 6? 7? Anyway. I'll meet you there at 9." Mike tells him. "I have class until 8:45. Will you make it? Cause I can-"

"Yeah, yeah that's fine." Chris rattles off absently. Mike huffs, sounding fond, before he mutters out a 'bye', leaving Chris to listen to the line fall dead, leaving Chris to mull over his life choices.

Not that this was a choice. He thumbs through unread text messages, listening to the silence of his apartment and the occasional gurgling noise he realizes is coming from him.

From: Washington  
So. Tomorrow.  
I have to reschedule.

"Color me disappointed." Chris mumbles to himself, heaving a sigh. He pockets his phone, pushing his glasses up to his forehead as he fights back a groan. His fingers twitch, digging sharply into the side of his face. Chris tries to breathe. It comes out as this raspy, exhausted noise. 

Chris isn't sure if it's the anticipation of going to Etcetera or if it's because it's really been too long since he's eaten, but he finds himself outside, wandering the streets once the sun has set. It's nearly 8, which made an hour of waiting, and if Chris wasn't such an awkward shit he'd go to Etcetera himself. 

The sidewalks are empty, most people avoiding staying out after dark ever since the first American ghoul was discovered nearly five years ago. It was funny watching the government scramble to take back every press release in regards to ghouls, every claim that it was just a foreign thing. But ghouls have been lurking in the history books for a while, have been hunting and feeding and every missing person was most likely digested.

Chris ends up in an area he barely recognizes, tall brownstones lining the sidewalk, blue and brick or brown and stone. Trash litters the ground, tin cans knocked over. A TV plays loudly from an open window, loud laughing a voices moving in and out as Chris walks farther away. He checks his phone.

From: Beetlejuise  
They let us out early.  
I'm heading there now.

Chris nearly fist pumps the air. He hurries to type back, smiling widely, as he swipes at his phone. Chris pauses on the sidewalk, inhaling deeply. He tenses up. His stomach clenches, saliva swelling along his tongue, nose twitching and he smells it. 

Blood. 

Chris' lips tremble around a whine, heart rate spiking as the smell grows stronger and stronger, legs moving without his mind to stop it. The dulled clatter of his phone falling is a distant noise in his ear, eyes darting around to find the source. It's coming from behind a small business building named Franklin's Insurance.

A faint whimper thunders in his ear, soft begging drowning inside Chris' mind like a siren's call. His legs move faster, thoughts jumbling and colliding and he rounds the corner. The scent grows stronger, soothing and sweet and-

Chris' mouth falls open, eyes locked on the dirtied face of a sobbing young man, who is pushing himself backwards, backwards from a tall, lean woman. He looks painfully familiar, cheeks red, bruised, bottom lip busted and trembling as he tries to move but Chris' chaotic mind isn't placing him. The woman turns to Chris, sclera black, red veins running along her skin, irises scarlet and burning.

There's a dull, rustic blue kagune emerging from her lower black, twitching sporadically as it snakes towards the man. 

Bikaku, classification: tailbone; coccyx.

It twists around his ankle, yanking roughly. Chris winces, hearing the quiet drag of nails along the cement, hearing the loud pounding of that man's heart in his chest.

"What's going on?" Chris hears himself saying. He doesn't know why he does, usually prides himself on not being around when other ghouls are hunting or feeding or anything dead human related but this human was alive, alive and staring in horror at the woman, teeth chattering loudly.

"We can share, sweetie. You look like you need it." The woman giggles, curly black hair falling into her face. She smirks devilishly, licking the tips of her fingers as she drags the man closer. Chris cringes at the sound of hands slapping the cement, the frantic cry that presses into the air. 

"N-No, please, f-fuck, no, no." The man whimpers helplessly, nails cracking and breaking along the concrete. "N-No, no, please no."

It shakes Chris to his core, the smell of blood and imminent death weighing heavily in the air. Chris should leave, should call Mike and forget about this night. Realistically, Chris isn't sure he could take her even if he did decide to play hero, his mom's voice ringing in his head:

The snake is captured by the bird, the bird is killed by the bear, the bear is bitten by the spider, the spider is eaten by the snake.

The woman's kagune tracks back, swirling, fluid and graceful like a cat's tail, the glint in her eyes eager. She stares at Chris curiously, body thin and frail and Chris knows she hasn't had the best month either.

The man shuffles back, fear etched onto his face, blood seeping from a deep cut in his thigh. He stares at Chris, wide eyed, hard jaw clenched tight in pain. There's a look in his eyes, the vague registration of recognition. A sharp 'tsk' resounds in the air, her kagune whipping through the air to jerk the man towards her. He goes screaming, voice broken and hoarse.

"C'mon, honey, a girl's time is valuable." The woman says but she's distracted, focus directed to the scrambling human. Chris is surprised he's still fighting, Chris is surprised he's still standing here. 

Chris takes a step back, then another, noticing the flicker of disappointment crossing the woman's face. He spins around, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders pinched tightly together. He tries to relax, movements sluggish and slow, mouth salivating as the smell follows him, like an appetizer, the teaser before the main course.

Chris shakes his head from those thoughts, grinding his teeth together. He can hear that woman giggling, the soft slice of flesh tearing, the man's broken voice. The "please, please, please" sounding in Chris' head like a soft lull. He tries to ignore the sound, chewing on his bottom lip until it bleeds. He should visit Matt's afterward Etcetera, watch a movie with him and his-

Chris' stomach lurches, eyes widening slightly as he realizes where he recognizes the man from. Matt's apartment. Josh. A gasp lodges its way into his throat, a flurry of quick smiles and slight waves forming in his memory.

"Shit." Chris mutters. "Shit. Shit. Fuck."

He heads back, trying to ignore the sadistic words rolling off the woman's tongue, the stuttering, choked begs. It's harder to ignore the smell of blood, it burns along his throat, stomach cramping and yearning and he shouldn't be saving anyone right now.

The woman is straddling Josh's waist, delicate fingers wrapped around his throat, kagune curling and uncurling. Her voice is loving, tender as she speaks and Chris thinks maybe she's waited too long too to eat because she hardly registers Chris' presence the second time.

Josh's eyes are squeezed shut, skin pale, smeared red. Chris' fingers twitch, cringing at how hard his stomach twists up at the sight. He blinks furiously, weakly tugging his glasses off as he tries to concentrate. His mind blanks, kagune sliding underneath his sweater, pale and white, glossy like the sky on a rainy day. It's painful, skin ripping open like an old wound. He could only manage two, thoughts too far gone, tentacle cutting soundlessly through the air. 

Rinkaku, classification: waist; scaled tentacle.

The woman stills, dropping the man's head with a wet gasp, a dark red stain blossoming along the back of her shirt. She glances down, watching with a muted cry as her chest splits open, splatters of red dripping onto the man's chest, staining her chin. She was weak, Chris thinks, weak and hungry. 

"Ooh. Oooh." The woman moans, tossing her head back. Her eyes roll towards him, pain and anger etching across the paling skin of her face. 

"Sorry." Chris manages, watching her shoulders part, dribbles of red and bone separating as his kagunes split inside her body, the right one curving along her jaw, through her nose as the left tugs and pulls slowly. She doesn't scream but Josh does, barely, the weakened, raspy cry of a dying dog.

Chris collapses to his knees, senses overwhelmed, the dark stains of blood grinding along his mind like sandpaper. She smells different than Josh, body separated from the waist up, split into drooling pools of red. His kagune is still inside her, slowly dragging her twitching body towards him.

Josh clamors away, elbows scraping roughly against cement, legs kicking for purchase. He hurries back until his back hits the dumpster, breathing raggedly. Familiar grey eyes dart back and forth between the limp body and Chris.

"A-Are you.." He doesn't finish, bottom lip trembling. 

Chris can't find his voice, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He wants to tell him to leave, to get the fuck out of here because this day definitely wasn't going how Chris wanted. His stomach grumbles, lips parting without thought. 

The woman's body lies in front of him, skin already beginning to regenerate, cells slowly moving to mend. Her eyes fixate on him. Chris glances back at Josh, listening to the rabid beat of his heart. It's a nice sound, a pleasant lovely noise.

Chris shouldn't think that, shouldn't be thinking that at all. He shakes his head, digging his nails into the tops of his knees. It's hard. To think. A jumbled crawl of need inching along his spine and into every pore, every nerve. He should've stayed home.

The woman tries to speak, Chris digs his kagune through her spine. Josh whimpers softly. Chris' skin prickles at the sound, absently licking his lips, mind honing in on one solid thought. 

He should eat, he should eat, he should..

It tastes different, different than what his mom used to serve him on a plate, spongy, firm like tofu but it's the same, in between teeth, ground into bits and pieces that fill the hollow out pit deep inside him. It's the same savory, wholesome taste, warm and fine like duck, rolling along his tongue in waves of decadent flavors.

There's a muffled noise in his ear, something like a scream, drowned out under the crunch of bones. Chris coughs, throat coated thick with copper, elbow deep in intestines and broken bone.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Chris isn't sure how far gone he was but his eyes are closed, stomach purring at how full it is. He doesn't remember closing them, doesn't remember much beyond crunch, chew, swallow. Chris doesn't want to know whose skin is underneath his palm, cold and wet. 

Josh is quiet. Oh god. Oh god.

He forces his eyes open, heart crawling into his throat as he sees the woman's remains, lifeless, broken, clothes torn to shreds around what's left of her. There's blood on his jeans, his jacket soaked red. 

"Ah, fuck." Chris swears quietly, frantically clamoring to his feet. Fuck. Fuck. This was bad. This was so damn- The sound of trash hitting the ground startles Chris, kagune whipping out instantly. 

Josh stares at him, wide eyed, using the cool metal of the dumpster to hold himself up. He eyes Chris' warily, face caked with dirt and tears, terror quaking through his tiny body. A car door slams shut, causing Chris to tense up, the hurried panicked voices of people moving towards them.

"Fuck." Chris swears softly. "F-Fuck, I'm so sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry."

The voices are getting closer. Chris glances at Josh one last time, takes in the blood and scars and leaves, hurriedly climbing the back wall to Franklin's Insurance. He doesn't stick around, the high shrieks of a woman haunting his mind until he gets home. 

Chris uses his bedroom window instead of the front door, immediately stripping off his clothes as he hurries into the shower. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Josh saw him. 

Emily was going to kill him.

Chris calls Matt after, hair dripping wet, skin scrubbed raw. Matt doesn't answer. He debates calling Emily, calling Ashley or Mike, his phone blowing up with panicked text messages. 

"Shit, dude, where are you?" Mike hisses angrily. "It's been an hour. I saw police cars zooming by me on the street."

"I fucked up." Chris rushes to say.

Mike doesn't say anything for a moment. 

"Chris.. What.. What happened? What did you do?"

"Josh saw me, Mike. Matt's roommate saw me. He fucking-"

"Whoah, whoah. Slow down, bro." Mike says softly, tone soothing. "Take it easy. What happened?"

"I was.. I was walking and I could smell- I ate her. I ate someone, Mike, in front of my fucking date."

Mike whistles, "Ah shit, Chris. Shit."

"What do I do?" Chris' voice goes high, nearly hysterical, hand shaking around his phone.

"I'll call Matt and Emily. We'll figure.. We'll figure this out." Mike sighs heavily. "Don't leave."

Chris stays locked in his apartment for a few days, Emily's motherly tone destroying all his desire to ever leave again. He reads Ashley's blog for updates, any mention of what happened that night but none of it is mentioned. The only recent discussion is in regards to Jack Fessenden, the ghoul investigator who took down Makkapitew, potentially coming to Philadelphia. 

It's nerve racking, waiting for news, waiting for a sign for Chris to get the fuck out of Philly. He plays video games online with Mike, who is surprisingly good at cheering him up. Ashley calls but he doesn't answer, knowing she's going to rip his ass a new one. 

A knock comes to his apartment door, his computer ringing from Jess' recent IM about dropping by. Chris should've checked the peephole, should've asked who it was or thrown himself out a window but Chris opens the door without much thought, eyes going wide and large as he stares.

Josh stares back, deep bags resting under dull grey eyes, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. Chris can see fading finger-shaped bruises decorating his neck, a dark scab crusting over a corner of his lip, scars healing dark red and nasty. White gauze peaks out from under the neck of his tank top. 

"Hey," Josh says softly. "Can I come in?"


	2. Honey Pots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of vomit, bruises and scars, general tension? Idk.

Josh doesn't say anything, padding quietly around Chris' apartment. He weaves through the living room, Chris' bedroom and kitchen, each cracked open door an invitation for him to peek into. There's a slight limp in his walk. 

Josh examines pictures on the wall, tiny trinkets lining Chris' counters and windowsills, eyes unfocused and glossy. Josh flicks at Bill Gates bobble head, smiling softly when it bounces around. Josh glances out Chris' living room window, moving to sit against the ledge. 

Chris hasn't said anything, tension lining his body. He watches Josh look around, arms wrapped tight across his chest. His legs twitches nervously, knee locking and buckling with each silent second. 

Josh faces him, hands fisted in his lap. He eyes Chris nervously, tonguing the crusting scab in the corner of his mouth. His bruises look nastier under the harsh lighting of Chris' apartment, skin pale and sickly. He smells like blood. 

Chris bites at his lips, fingers tapping his forearms. The silence makes him nervous but he can't figure out how to broach the subject. He wants to know if Josh told anyone about it, how the conversation with the police went, something. Realistically Chris knows he could just ask but he's been trying to calm down for the past three days and Josh arriving on his doorstep isn't helping.

"You always this quiet?"

Emily would say some days it takes a tranquilizer to shut Chris up. He shakes his head. A wary smile crosses Josh's face, hands folded in his lap. He stares intently at the floor, dirtied high tops rocking back and forth. 

"Yeah, me either." Josh sighs. He manages a weak smile. "Look, man. We should.. We should talk about what happened."

That's the exact opposite of what Chris wants to do, but considering Josh is in his apartment instead of some CCG operative, ready to harvest Chris' insides for field hockey, he guesses this is as bad and awkward as it gets. 

Chris sighs heavily, moving to sit on the couch. He peeks over at Josh, the other man regarding him quietly. 

"Okay. We can.. talk about it." 

Josh's lips twitch. "I haven't told anyone." 

Chris tenses. 

Josh notices, exhaling. "I-I haven't.. about you. I just said another ghoul attacked."

"They actually believed you?" Chris finds himself saying. 

"Seriously, bro? I'm about as plain as they get so obviously I'm not a prime suspect." Josh stresses, expression softening. "I.. It took a lot to come here-"

"So why did you?" Chris snaps. Josh recoils, eyes widening slightly and Chris curses internally, forcing himself to relax. He rubs at his eyes, a harsh sigh escaping his lips. 

"I'm sorry." Chris stresses, pinching his face between his hands. "Oh my god, this is not how I wanted this conversation to go."

"You had a preference on how you wanted this to go?" Josh smirks, amused.

"I'd prefer not to have this conversation at all." Chris mumbles bitterly. "At all. As in ever."

It was better than the alternative though, also better than Emily showing up on his doorstep, fiery and angry. She lived next door so Chris is sure it's only a matter of time, Jess was already dropping by which meant kind death. 

Josh falls silent, eyes darting between Chris and the floor. His thumb smooths along his wrist, Chris noticing old, dark scars lining the skin. 

"Can I see them?" 

Chris blinks. "See what?"

Josh gestures to his waist, flailing his arms weirdly like noodles. Chris stares at him. Josh chuckles softly, doing the gesture until it clicks in Chris' mind.

"Dude, no. That's weird."

Josh rolls his eyes, "C'mon, Cochise. I've already been subjected to their.. Uhm. Yeah. I've seen it. Just kinda wanna see them and not be terrified."

Chris frowns, worry lining his stomach. "God, can we.. No, Josh. Maybe later but I definitely don't want you to see them." 

Josh pouts, it's desired effect a bit more intense due to the fact that Josh resembles a kicked and abandoned puppy. Chris knows he can't stay in the apartment with Josh and not want to rip his own hair out at the idea of Josh being in his apartment after he witnessed Chris turn another ghoul into chow mien. 

"You wanna go somewhere?" Chris asks, but he's already decided he's leaving, grasping a discarded sweater from the couch. He slides it on, patting on wrinkles. 

"Where?" Josh asks, voice nervous and timid.

"I don't know. You pick. I just.." Chris exhales sharply. "This isn't an ideal situation. At all."

"Yeah," Josh agrees.

"I can't be in my apartment with you."

Josh straightens, staring down hard at the floor. He nods slowly, rising up from his seat with a muted gasp, face wrinkling up in pain. Josh sets his weight on his right side, hands in pockets and the smile he gives Chris seems easy.

"I meant I can't think." Chris corrects.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it, man." Josh dismisses, hobbling towards the front door. He watches Chris pull on a windbreaker then a jacket, snickering softly when Chris struggles to figure out which zipper goes to which. 

Josh reaches for the ends of his jacket, skin brushing against Chris' hands as he takes the zipper. He connects them easily, sliding it up halfway. His hand hesitates, grey eyes flickering up to meet Chris'.

Josh steps away. Chris wishes he would've worn a turtleneck so he could hide the growing blush on his face. He settles for tucking his chin into the clasp of his jacket, ignoring the tickle inside him. Chris catches Josh's brief smile.

"I look like shit so someplace not amazing." Josh admits quietly.

"Whatever you want."

"You're being pretty reasonable." Josh comments, prying Chris' front door open and stepping into the hallway. "You didn't have to let me in."

"Yeah, well." Chris can't think of anything to say, locking his apartment door behind him. Josh bumps their shoulders.

"Is this savior's guilt?"

Chris snorts at that. "I feel like you aren't grasping the intensity of the situation."

"I have." Josh tells him, moving towards the elevator. He jams his thumb into the downward arrow, stepping around to face Chris. 

"If you did, this," Chris stresses, "wouldn't be happening."

Josh gives him a worn smile. He doesn't say anything, limps into the elevator shaft once the doors open and rests heavily along the railing. Chris tries to think back to their previous passings, their quick "hi, bye" to see if Josh had always seem this exhausted.

His memory supplies no recollection.

"Were you born a ghoul?" Josh asks, glancing up at Chris curiously. Chris nods.

"Your parents are ghouls too?"

"Yeah." Chris answers curtly.

"Is Matt a ghoul?"

"You should ask Matt." Chris tells him, allowing Josh to walk out first once they've hit the basement floor. Josh hums ponderously, walking close beside Chris. 

"Guess you're getting that date after all." Josh jokes weakly. Chris had forgotten about that, the past few days of panic and worry completely wiping his mind of any small details. He fumbles for his keys, clicking the tiny unlock icon. The lights of his Honda glow in the farthest corner.

"Why did you cancel?"

"To get eaten, couldn't ya tell?" Josh answers smartly, a slight edge to his voice.

"Did a real shitty job. Put up a sign next time."

Josh laughs, this hoarse, whimsical sound that fits nicely in his throat. He nudges Chris, a faint smile lingering on his lips. Josh whistles softly once they reach the car, prying the passenger door open. It shifts when he drops in, flailing like a small child before settling. Chris climbs into the driver's side.

"It's pretty."

Chris glances him, slotting the key into the ignition. "My car? It's a piece of shit."

Chris only drove if he was tired and even then, he preferred walking. He starts up it up, masking a sigh under the noise of the engine. Josh crosses his legs, one folding over his knee as the other stretches out.

"No," Josh chuckles. "Your things. The tentacles or whatever. They're pretty."

"That's a way to look at it." Chris mutters, face heating up. 

"It was like watching clouds." 

"Don't sound so impressed." Chris smiles, hand braced on the steering wheel. He eases on from his parking spot, shifting gears as Josh falls quiet in the passenger seat, leaned against the window, eyes focused on the passing landscape.

They don't agree on anything, Chris' difficult indifference on food only settled when Chris reminds Josh that he can't eat anything. Chris picks McDonald's, Josh whines the entire time and makes Chris order when he'd rather crawl into a hole somewhere. 

"Mickie D's, Cochise? Really?"

"It's cheap and shitty, so no one will send me weird looks if I slap that shit in the trash."

"Nice." Josh grins, rapping his knuckles against the counter as they wait. A few looks are sent their way, soft murmurs about Josh's bruises and busted lip but Josh doesn't seem to mind, either ignoring it completely or unaware it's happening.

A woman passes a tray filled with food towards them, shaking her head sympathetically at Josh's appearance. She places extra honey mustard on the tray. Chris takes it, Josh retreating from the counter with a weird look on his face. They sit in the back, closest to the Windows separating the main store and play area. Shrill screams of joy bounce off the glass.

"So do you like.. get sick?" Josh asks, munching on a handful of fries. He looks up at Chris, watching in awe as the other pushes at ketchup with his nuggets. "Eating this?"

"Pretty much." Chris answers honestly, saving the gross vomit filled bits to himself. He remembers the first time he had human food, spaghetti at a friend's house in middle school. Chris had been fine the first ten minutes but shortly after his entire life flashed before his eyes as he vomited in their guest bathroom.

"That sucks." Josh comments absently. "Nuggets are amazing."

"That's what I keep hearing." Chris snorts, watching Josh peel skin off a nugget. "At least I don't get fat." 

"You'd look cute fat, chubby, whatever." Josh averts his gaze. "You're pretty cute regardless."

"I'm a man eater." Chris reminds him, a smile twitching onto his lips. Josh shrugs, stealing some nuggets from Chris' container. He doesn't like ketchup or any kind of sauce, likes his food plain and salted, peels the skin off nuggets and sets it to the side. It's interesting to watch different kinds of people eat. 

"You came back, so.. You can't be that bad." Josh peers up at him as he says it, eyelashes fanning across his cheek. "Can you do that? Eat other ghouls?"

Chris shrugs. There weren't any defining etiquettes in regards to that kind of thing, not that Chris read up on it. He had heard whispers on the wind about ghouls eating ghouls in other countries, other parts of the U.S but he never thought he'd be clumped into the category.

Josh balls up his wrappers, shoving them into the thin cardboard container that used to hold his fries. 

"The CCG came by my apartment." Josh tells him, wedging his leg between his body and the edge of the table. "I don't know much about what's going on in this area but.. you should be careful. I think I heard one of them was going to stay in town."

The thought makes Chris feel queasy. This was bad, if the CCG suddenly took interest in Philadelphia because of Chris' recent actions, it meant they were possibly in danger. It also meant Emily was in fact, 100% going to kick his ass.

"You remember their names?"

Josh shakes his head. "I was pretty doped up on pain medication. Sorry, man."

Chris tries not to sigh. "It's fine."

"Oh," Josh shifts in his seat, patting at pockets until he finds what he's looking for. He pulls out Chris' cellphone, screen cracked badly and sets it on the table. Chris straightens, reaching out for it. Josh drops it in his hand.

"I found it. On the sidewalk. I told them it was mine so they wouldn't... Take it."

Chris had forgotten he dropped it, barely spent any time dwelling on the idea of his phone being in the hands of the CCG. It's not like he kept anything personal on it, encrypted photos and passcode locked most of his apps but the idea was still icky to think about.

"Can we go back to your place?"

"Yeah okay." Chris collects Josh's trash, sliding it onto his tray. Josh takes their drinks in one hand, tapping silently on his phone as he trails after Chris to the trashcan.

Josh suddenly grasps Chris' hand tightly, grip tight and hard. Chris glances over at him, eyebrows raised in concern as he sets the tray on top of the trashcan. He follows Josh's line of vision.

There are two men standing at the McDonald's counter, one ordering, dark with a youthful face, as the other nods absently in agreement, deep lines creasing his forehead, skin old and hardened. Both are dressed in white, knee length leather jackets. The older man is holding a silver briefcase, encased in shine and sparkle. It makes Chris nervous, detecting faint hints of blood. Death. A Dove.

Josh's hold is bruising, insistent as he tugs Chris towards another exit. He exhales shakily once they're outside, a wobbly smile in place. 

"Fuck, you weren't kidding." Chris manages, heart beating wildly in his chest. 

"Y-Yeah." Josh agrees, hand still in Chris'. The exit door opens shortly after, startling Chris. He glances over his shoulder, the older man holding the briefcase standing before them. There's a scar crossing his right eye, old and discolored. Chris' stomach hollows, an itch growing along his waist. The man holds his gaze, oozing with burning hatred. Chris isn't sure if it's directed at him, if he's been found out. He studies Chris closely, reaching out his hand. 

There's a balled up five dollar bill in the center, lint wedged into the creases. 

"You dropped this." He says roughly. 

Chris takes it shakily, nodding his thanks as Josh moves to stand closer to him. The man recognizes Josh, the beginnings of a smile on his face. 

"Mr. Washington, fancy that." He says brightly. "Thank you again for helping us with our investigation."

Josh clears his throat. "I-It's fine. It was no problem."

The man smiles, "Take better care of your boyfriend." He tells Chris. "Kid could've been ghoul nip the other night. Investigator Jack Fessenden." 

Chris' blood runs cold, every thin strip of news announcement, every warning sign from Predator's Anonymous displayed bright and ugly in front of his eyes. Jack Fessenden, the investigator who took down Makkapitew, the CCG's Hound. 

"Chris." He answers tersely, shaking the offered hand. 

"Chris... What?" Jack presses, hand still firmly grasping Chris'.

"Stratton." Chris answers hesitantly, running through different last names of kids he knows.

"Nice to meet you. Have a good day." Jack grins, testing the firmness of their shake before sliding his hand into the pocket of his white coat. He tips his head, a jagged smile crossing his face and he heads back inside.

Chris has to remember how to breathe. 

"Let's go, Chris." Josh urges, yanking Chris away from the exit door. Chris stumbles after him, trying to analyze and collect his thoughts but he can't seem to place anything beyond get in the car, buckle up, drive home.

Josh sneaks glances at him as he drives, nervous energy rolling off in waves and it only makes Chris more and more jittery. 

"You're freaking out." 

Josh nods, "You're freaking out so I'm sorry if I can't help but do the same. It's hard to focus."

"I'm sorry." Chris says tensely. "God. This is so bad. He interviewed you?"

"Yeah. Did you know him?" 

If Chris did, he'd be dead. His body would be left cut open on a slab and prodded and poked until his cells weren't fast enough to regenerate. The only memory of he'd leave behind is his kagune trapped inside a silver briefcase to be used to cut down others like him. 

"Want me to go?" Josh asks, barely above a whisper, meek and soft. "I..I can go, Chris. Walk home."

Chris doesn't know what he wants. He wishes he had some sort of time machine to rewind the past week. None of this would've happened, Josh wouldn't give him his number, Mike would go with him to Etcetera, Chris would cover Jess' shift Thursday and it would be okay. The Doves wouldn't be in Philadelphia, Jack Fessenden wouldn't be in fucking Philadelphia.

But.

Josh would be dead.

Was that a factor? If he never gave Chris his number, would it be a factor? Would Josh still go out that night? Would he be dead?

Josh is staring at Chris, car humming underneath them as Chris stares into the blank wall of his parking garage. He shifts to park, leaning back in his seat. Chris hadn't answered the question, each passing second moving slower and slower. 

"I'm sorry this is complicated for you." Josh tells him quietly and it sounds like he means it. The damage was done. Chris couldn't revert time no matter how hard he tried. He sighs, thick and heavy.

"You can stay." 

"Alright, Cochise."

The walk upstairs is quiet, elevator ride silent, calm and Josh leans against him as the yellow numbers illuminate. Chris studies the top of Josh's head, oily and deep brown but it still manages to smell like four day old shampoo.

Josh straightens once the elevator doors open, limbs popping as he readjusts his weight. He follows Chris into the hallway, four doors down to Chris' apartment.

"You want to play a game?"

Josh blinks. "Like Saw? 'Cause no. Also no to any simulation anime girls."

Chris almost closes the door in his face, instead he punches Josh lightly in the shoulder, the grimace spreading across the other's face enough for him to know light wasn't light enough.

"Ah, sorry."

"No, you're not." Josh whines, rubbing his shoulder roughly. He jabs a bong finger in Chris' side as he walks by, shrugging off his jacket. Josh folds it over his arm, returning to his previous seat on Chris' windowsill. He's wearing a cardigan underneath, sleeves pulled down over his hands.

Chris closes the door, unzipping his jacket slowly, hyper aware of Josh's lingering gaze. A flurry of sharp knocks startles them both. Chris glances at Josh, whose wincing as his body tenses up. 

"Chris! I know you're in there!" Jess shouts from the other side of the front door. "I'd say I smell you but that's weird. Open up, bitch!"

More rapid knocks. Josh's brow furrows, mouth pinching tightly.

"You know Jess?"

"You know Jess?" Chris' head snaps to Josh. 

Josh nods shakily. "Y-Yeah."

Chris fights back a groan, forcing himself to answer. He staggers toward the door, prying it open with unnecessary force. 

Jess stands on the other side, dress plainly in a pullover and shorts. Her hair is messy, all wrapped up in the loosest, tiniest bun Chris has ever seen. Jess' nose twitches, sniffing once then twice.

"Is Josh here?" She whispers fiercely. "Oh my god, is he... Is he the guy? Is he blackmailing you?"

That thought hadn't even crossed Chris' mind. He glances back at Josh. Josh is staring down at his shoes, fisting his jacket tightly, posture rigid. Chris turns back to Jess, forehead resting against the edge of his door. He shakes his head. Her body deflates.

"Oh thank god. I didn't have a plan for that."

Chris lifts an eyebrow at her. "You expected him to be here?"

"No, Chris, jesus. I'm not psychic." Jess pushes past him into the apartment, a cheerful smile in place. She waltzes into the living room, pointedly keeping as much distance between Josh and her as possible. Chris knocks his head on the door before slamming it closed.

Jess stands near the couch, staring expectantly at him when he comes into her line of vision. Josh looks from Jess to Chris then back to Jess, jaw locking to one side. His left leg bounces nervously, hands flexing and closing. Josh seems jittery, ready to bolt and Jess always seems to pick good times to show up in his life.

"Okay, let's move past this awkward silence," Jess whistles, turning to Josh. "Did you tell anyone?"

Josh shakes his head quickly, glancing back at Chris. "No."

Jess taps her foot impatiently, hands coming to rest on her hips. The air shifts, thick and suffocating and Chris can see red, spidery veins spreading along her cheeks. He's growing increasingly anxious with each passing second. Chris didn't know what Jess would do, if she planned on somehow eradicating this situation because if Jess found the threat big enough she would destroy it, no matter who it was.

Chris places a hand on her shoulder, feeling the ripple of flesh beneath his fingers, a pool of burning warmth pulsing. Jess' head snaps to him, a frown etched deep in her face. She looks scared, teeth clenched tight. Chris understands her panic, the neat little life they've built here possibly crumbling under them.

"He knows, Chris. This isn't a fuck- This isn't a joke. It's us, our lives," Jess bites out. "He could turn you in. All of us, just on the suspicion that we could be ghouls."

"I-I won't." Josh stammers from the window.

Jess snarls at him, the whites of her eyes bleeding black, irises a blotting like fire. Chris steps between them, Josh blocked behind him. His skin aches, tender and sore as his kagune stretches, coming up to curl along Jess' neck. He can hear Josh's shaky inhale.

Chris wasn't going to fight her, Jess could easily destroy him no matter which kagune he used. Her furious gaze nauseates him, searching frantic and wild and Jess grasps the front of Chris' shirt tightly. 

"Give me one reason." 

"He didn't give me up today. Jack is in town."

Jess blinks, once, then twice. "What?"

"I.. We saw him at McDonald's. He's here. The Hound is here and Josh didn't give me up."

Jess takes her hand away, expression panicked as her eyes recede back to their usual color. She tries to speak, words forming and dying. Chris steps back, nearly sighing in relief. His kagune retracts, easier this time around.

"Fuck. Fuck, Chris." Jess reaches up to snatch out her hair band. Messy waves tumble down her shoulders, bits of static causing thin hairs to stay risen. "This is bad."

"Yeah." Chris agrees. 

Jess runs a hand over her face. "Jesus."

"Um.. Should.. Should I go?" Josh asks hesitantly. 

Chris glances back at him, Josh already on his feet, hand curled around the window. He turns back to Jess, who seems calmer, face painfully neutral. She places a hand on Chris' shoulder and pats it gently.

"I trust you." Jess tells him. "But the minute, the fucking minute you don't come home or he so much as whispers in the CCGs direction. I will kill him."

Chris believes her, nodding his head. There's a wedge in between his ribs, throat clogged with a hardened brick of saliva and feelings. Jess moves around Chris, an apologetic smile on her face.

"This is embarrassing. I, like Christopher, am a man eating scum bag, please continue to be nice to me in Critical Theory." Jess says pleasantly, tying her hair back up.

"I'm not a scum bag." Chris defends weakly.

Jess glares at him, "You're in deep shit, mister. You ate a ghoul? Really? Are you insane?"

Chris opens his mouth to speak, words dying after every thought. His jaw clicks shut. 

"Can we not do this? Please? Tomorrow?"

"Ooh honey, I swear all my conversation rain checks are just for you." Jess sighs, bun bouncing with the quick shake of her head. "You finally going to have that date?"

"God." Chris mutters. 

"I only prefer that response if I'm in between Emily's legs but I'll take it." Jess smiles at Josh. "Two seconds and I'll leave. Josh, you look like you're about to throw up."

"I might." Josh replies easily. 

"Please don't." Chris cringes, stomach flopping at the idea.

"You can eat people but not look at vomit. Hilarious." Josh giggles, paling considerably.

"He can't even do that right." Jess counters. Chris bristles, a hand folded over his chest, feeling offended and irritated by her comment. Jess shrugs nonchalantly, focusing her attention back on Josh. She plops down on the couch, gesturing for Chris to join her.

Chris doesn't.

"Chris, relax. You've convinced me." Jess smiles warmly. "I don't bite, honey pot."

Josh relaxes a bit once Chris sits beside Jess, leg still bouncing. He coughs into his hand, clearing his throat and strains to keep composed. 

"How have I lived so long?" Josh jokes weakly. 

"You're a pretty cute guy so there's that." Jess points out. "Although some people have a preference for cutie pies."

"Jessica, please." Chris huffs.

"Just sayin'. What were you guys doing? Figuring out how to have a successful ghoul-human relationship? Kagunes are not for fucking."

Chris chokes. Josh actually laughs, shoulders shaking as he tosses his head back, a high trilling laugh escaping his lips. It's strange sound considering how low Josh's voice goes but Chris finds himself smiling. Jess notices, smirking. She winks dramatically.

"We were going to play video games." Josh tells her.

"Talk about boring." Jess comments. "Listen, Joshua, I'm sure you understand what kind of predicament Chris has managed to get himself into."

Josh nods, uneasy. 

"I don't need to tell you what will happen if something happens, right?"

Another nod.

"I don't want to be.. that guy. Or girl, whatever. But we've managed to outlast most of our friends from high school so I'm a bit.." Jess shrugs, "tense. I like you, I like your writing and your general personality but this is my family."

"Yeah. I get it." Josh says quietly. 

"I'm glad you didn't get eaten." Jess adds after a moment.

Josh laughs, "Yeah, me too." He looks at Chris when he says it. 

"Alright boys," Jess uses Chris' knee to lift herself up. "I'm going to go see my girlfriend at work. FYI, Christopher, she will be by later and she will be pissed so.. Warning?"

Chris groans. "Yeah okay."

Jess walks over to Josh, ruffling his hair fondly and kissing his forehead. Josh blushes, shrinking a bit into himself. Jess smacks Chris upside the head as she goes, winking again and she's gone, the sound of the door closing echoing.

Josh breathes. "Fuck. She's terrifying."

"Yeah." Chris agrees.

"Guess I got to see your thing after all." Josh grins cheekily.

"Shut up." Chris smiles. "She could've kicked my ass."

"Does she have the same kind?"

Chris shakes his head. "Hers come from here," he taps his shoulder blade. "Wings. Somethin' like that."

"Your apartment isn't that big. She can't fly around."

Chris wants to remind Josh that he's never seen Jess fight, never seen her in close quarters where she feels trapped. It's like bees in a jar once you've shaken it up and opened the lid.

Josh lifts up from his seat, hobbling over to Chris. He presses down on the other's thigh, sinking into the empty space with a sharp inhale. Chris clicks on his tv, placing a controller in Josh's lap. 

He doesn't feel like getting up to change the game to something co-op, so they take turns on Soma, Josh increasingly not doing well when it comes to hiding. He bitches the game out each time he dies, Chris laughing from beside him. 

"Will you walk me home?" Josh asks tiredly, maneuvering through a dark bunker. A soft shuffling comes from around the corner, Josh stumbling right into one of the glowing eyed creatures. He dies. Josh curses. Chris laughs.

"Yeah, man. Or I can drive you." Chris suggests.

"I like walking." Josh tells him. "You're a nice dude, Cochise." 

"Not that nice." 

Josh steals one of Chris' jackets, fingers barely poking out from the sleeves, chin disappearing into soft brown fur. He stands silently at the door, eyes closed, expression soft. Chris almost thinks he's fallen asleep but Josh peers up at him when he walks closer.

"You look like you're about to fall over."

"'m tired, bro." Josh slurs, yawning widely. He wiggles his hand out of the jacket sleeve, hooking two fingers around Chris' index finger. Chris doesn't say anything, Josh doesn't either but they walk close together, the silence drifting between them easy, pleasant.

Matt's apartment isn't far from Chris', two blocks, across from an old copier company. Chris doesn't go inside but he walks Josh to the front door, index finger still hooked around Josh's two. Josh gestures to the jacket.

"Can I borrow this?"

Chris nods.

"Cool." Josh bites his bottom lip. "I have class tomorrow but.. This weekend. There's this film festival downtown. I don't know, it's kinda lame but if you wanted..."

"Yeah, we could do that."

Josh smiles at that. "Oh sweet. Awesome. I'll swing by?"

"Sure. I'll clean up all the bones in my bedroom beforehand."

"Nice." Josh smirks. He squeezes Chris' finger. "I'll see you."

"Yeah. Tell Matt I'll see him tomorrow."

"Aye aye captain." Josh salutes, heading up the stairs. He glances back at Chris, waving briefly before disappearing around a corner.

Chris waits a beat, staring at the empty space Josh occupied. He listens, footsteps pounding up the stairs, down a hallway, Matt's familiar voice when the door opens. Chris takes a step back, then another, hands in his pockets. He pauses, sniffing the air when an unfamiliar smell whips past him. 

It's a ghoul, but it's different, the soft smell of human lingering underneath. Chris' nose wrinkles, trying to decipher between which is which. It doesn't smell like a human dying, doesn't smell like a human walking with a ghoul, it's melded together.

Chris glances around, sidewalks devoid of people. A streetlight flickers. He looks up.

There's someone standing on the apartment building beside Matt's, fluttering thin wings, sparkles of blackened coal against the setting sky. 

Ukaku, classification: shoulder; feather.

Chris can't tell who it is or what, body encased in a tattered shroud but they notice Chris staring. They only have one ukaku, opposed to two like usual. It reminds Chris of the ripped wing of a butterfly.

"Oh you're still out here?" Josh's voice startles him, enough for Chris to yelp, head snapping in his direction. Josh is standing on the top step, in the same tattered tank top he wore to Chris' apartment but there's no jacket to cover the bruises on his arms, finger shaped, tiny cuts exposed in the night air.

"Why are you out here?" Chris asks.

Josh shrugs. "It feels nice."

Chris glances back up at the apartment building roof. The person is gone.

"Wanna sit with me?"

Chris nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't fully read this over so if ya see mistakes, lemme know. Oh! I read y'alls comments and I will reply tomorrow :))
> 
> Next Episode: Emily takes some time to think bout her life and choices aka Emily's chapter


	3. Blackest Stain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: disturbing images, cannibalism, slight gore, the gay™

Ashley is at her desk when Emily arrives, red hair pushed back and secured with a black band. There's a blackened piece of jerky in her mouth, bobbing up and down as she chews. Ashley doesn't look up, gesturing to a spot on her bed. 

Emily glances at it and ignores the offer. 

Emily stands, camera bag dangling off her shoulder. She takes in Ashley's bedroom, smaller than Matt's with posters of bands and worn book covers taped to the wall. There's a pink carpet situated in the center of the room, fuzzy and tacky. It makes Emily's nose twitch.

"I brought it." Emily folds her arms across her chest, lips curling when Ashley slurps the remainder of jerky into her mouth.

"Nice." Ashley spins in her chair, hands outstretched and wiggling. Emily lifts the bag off her shoulder, dropping it into Ashley's grip. Ashley turns back to her computer, unzipping the camera bag. She uses more force than necessary, manhandling and angling until she can shove the HDMI cable into the camera.

Emily almost comments, almost but it's not her camera. Instead she moves closer, pressing one hand on Ashley's cluttered desk as she leans down to peer at the computer screen. It's on the main page for Predator's Anonymous, tiny dings filling the room each time someone responds to the newest blog post. It's titled Phill-Eh-Mignon. Emily cringes.

"Shitty title right?" Ashley chuckles. "I couldn't help it."

"You could've." Emily retorts, taking the mouse in her hand. She hovers over the blinking import icon at the bottom and double clicks it. A new window pops up, flurries of bloodied pictures covering the screen. Ashley gasps softly, leaning forward. Her shoulder brushes Emily's. Emily shifts away.

"Oh my god." Ashley says in awe. "A ghoul did this? To another ghoul?"

"Yep." Emily states simply.

"Wow. Wow." Ashley slumps back in her chair. "That's amazing. I mean, not really but gosh. Look at it."

Emily has seen it, has looked it over a hundred times in the past week in a half, has since she took them the day it happened. It was nothing she had ever seen before, even in her years of living out her car with Chris curled up in the passenger seat. 

Emily thought it was beautiful, spread out like a scar staining the earth, indistinguishable features of skin and bone, clothes ripped apart, kagune harvested and eaten. All shades of red and black and white. There was hardly anything left. She could make out Chris' fingerprints, the way his hands slid across the cement, digging and ripping. 

"The others are getting worried." Ashley's voice brings Emily out of her thoughts. "With the Goats so close by and the CCG trailing after, this isn't really what the community needs. A ghoul who eats ghouls."

Emily considers telling Ashley who the ghoul is, considers arguing that it was a mistake and Chris would never do it again but she doesn't and maybe it's because she doesn't trust Ashley to keep her mouth shut or maybe she's interested to see how this plays out. It was something she had never seen before.

Chris had an interesting set of morals. He didn't hunt with her and Mike, didn't hunt with Ashley or go to Amelie's with Jess. He preferred Etcetera, preferred the meat of humans who decided to die on their own terms, by their own hands and still it was hard to get him to eat that. 

Emily and Chris had grown up together, she had been there when he figured out what exactly it was that his mother used to feed him, what he needed to survived. He was 14 and Emily held him in her arms as he sobbed because he didn't want to kill anyone. 

Emily never thought, years later, he would be the one to devour one of their own, over someone he barely knew. It was interesting. This progression. 

"Thanks for these. You take such amazing pictures." Ashley smiles up at her. 

Emily shrugs, "It gives me something to do."

"I understand that." Ashley says, "I feel like I'm helping when I write these. It gives us a place to call our own."

Emily wants to say Philly was their own, their private, tiny circle where they could live out their lives forever but the dream was ending. 

"The Hound is here." Emily informs her.

Ashley's smile vanishes, pink lips falling open. Her eyes are wide, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She turns to Emily. 

"W-What?"

"He's here. Chris saw him." Emily repeats, examining her fingernails. They're a deep cherry wine color that doesn't quite fit her skin tone but Jess picked it out so Emily wears it. She peers back at Ashley, who is still staring at her, horror etched across her mousy features.

"He... He saw him?" Ashley swallows hard. "When? Where?"

Emily shrugs. She's known for a while, known since last weekend and it was surprising at first until she thought of how close the Goats were to here. It wasn't as surprising as they had surmised. It was a matter of time. Jess is the one who told her, stopped her from kicking in Chris' bedroom wall and snatching his throat out. Jess said she was too overprotective. Emily said Chris is fucking stupid.

"You've know." Ashley says, eyes searching Emily's face. "Why... Why didn't you say anything?"

"It seemed fun." Emily answers simply, reaching out a hand for the camera. Ashley frowns at her, snatching the cord from the camera. She reorganizes it in the bag, zipping it closed before roughly handing it to Emily. 

"This isn't a joke, Em."

"Don't call me that." Emily says curtly, pulling the strap onto her shoulder. "Put the word out. He's here. But if any of you had fucking sense you would know that it was a matter of time. Jack doesn't go anywhere that isn't interesting. Patrick is coming here. The Goats are coming and you idiots are concerned with a ghoul eating other ghouls."

"Do you know who that is too?!" Ashley snaps, rising from her seat. "This is important, Emily. People are scared."

"What's important is getting the fucking Doves out of here." Emily bites out, impatience dripping from every word. "Worrying about a ghoul eating one ghoul is stupid especially when it's possible all of us are in danger. The Goats are a danger. The Doves are a danger. Not some starving animal."

Ashley fumes quietly, eyes darkening, pulsing red veins creeping along her eyes. Emily smirks, skin ripping as her kagune pushes out from her waist, silver, sharp pinchers snapping at the end like the mouth of a snake.

"This shirt is 450$, if you're going to start something, Ashley. You better make it worth it." 

Ashley's eyes dart from Emily's face to the tentacle creeping towards her. She deflates, visibly cowering back into her seat. Emily retracts, fighting at the itch crawling under her skin. She takes a step back, then another, knowing the last time she turned her back on Ashley, Emily ended up with three tails digging through her abdomen. That was one thing Emily admired about her. Ashley fought dirty, filthier than anyone Emily's come into contact with. 

"Emily, I know..." Ashley sighs. "This is important too."

Emily knows it is. She closes the door behind her, knob denting under her grip. Emily sighs, staring intently at the door. She knows that was also important but she needed to be sure that Jess would be safe, that Chris would be safe before they targeted the fact that Chris ate another fucking ghoul.

"These kids." Emily mutters, walking down the dorm hallway to the elevator.

Jess calls her as she's passing the second floor, tone pleasant and beautiful and it melts the tension Emily feels lining her spine.

"Chris said he'd cover for me the next three days considering he was busy turning ghouls into cottage cheese."

"Am I supposed to take you out now?" Emily responds, glaring at a student who tries to use the elevator. He steps back, mumbling something about taking the stairs. The doors slide closed.

"Pretty pleeease." Jess says and Emily can hear her pouting. "I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go."

"Sounds like you should've planned better."

"God, you're such a bitch. Pick me up in thirty." Jess giggles. She doesn't say bye, line clicking dead. Emily presses her phone to her lips, smiling softly into hard plastic. The elevator doors ding open. Her smile drops.

Emily texts Matt on the way to Jess', frowning at his lack of information in regards to the boy Chris was dating. Or not dating, she didn't know. Chris said his name was Josh. Emily didn't give a fuck what his name was.

From: Mattatat  
Mike told me not to get involved

From: Queen  
So.  
You listen to your not boyfriend now?

From: Mattatat  
:(  
It's not like that.  
We're friends, Em.

Emily rolls her eyes, locking her phone. She sets in her back pocket, heels clicking across the pavement as she walks. Emily could ask Chris, could give the same threatening message to whatever-his-name-was that Jess did but it didn't seem right, or appropriate considering it seemed like Chris really, really liked him.

Emily's never seen Chris date, only watched him pine after Ashley for three years before his infatuation dropped like a brick. He didn't seem interested in anyone, yet here he was, fawning over some tanned fuck boy who could've been last night's dinner. 

Emily sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose as a headache forms. It sits right behind her jaw, tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth. The things she had to go through for family.

"You're always frowning." Jess notes, a smile playing on her lips as she opens the door. "I could see it through the peep hole."

Emily wants to tell her that between Chris and her, she isn't sure who will send her to an early grave first but she doesn't, eyes trailing along the curve of Jess' legs, knees round and small, tipped pink like the rest of her body when she blushes. Jess is in shorts, dark denim with folded ends, blouse loose and pretty, shades of brown and burgundy. 

"I'll take your silence as a yes." Jess grins, stepping to the side. Emily doesn't answer, definitely doesn't let her eyes linger as she passes, shrugging her camera bag from her shoulder. 

Jess' apartment is a lot like Jess, all warm colors that smell like home, nothing tattered or broken, clean and neat, prissy. Emily liked being here, better than her own apartment that smelt like failure and bad hallmark cards.

"Where did you want to go?" Emily inquires, setting her bag on Jess' couch. Thin arms wrap around her waist, soft skin pressing close. Honeysuckles, strawberries during summer. Jess' nose is buried into Emily's spine, the curve of a smile tracing along her back. 

"Anywhere." Jess answers.

"That's not a place." Emily huffs, lacking fire in her words. She touches Jess' wrists, fingers feeling along the soft pulse. Jess laughs, arms shaking, and she props her chin on Emily's shoulder, nosing the shell of her ear.

"Amelie's."

"You could eat there everyday." 

"They make the best eyeballs." Jess giggles. She kisses the skin behind Emily's ear, moving away. Emily turns to her, watching Jess slide into a loose gray cardigan that falls past her waist. She doesn't say anything, eyes categorizing each of Jess' curves, the whisper of a smile, hair fine and wavy like summer breeze.

Jess catches her looking, blushing cutely when Emily quickly turns away. She waltzes up to her, grasping at the sleeves of Emily's leather jacket, teeth pearly as she smiles, shy and lovely. Emily's breath catches in her throat. She kisses Jess.

Jess kisses back, lips smooth and soft, inviting, supple like the rest of her. Emily holds her close, hands rested on Jess' hips as the other slides her arms around Emily's neck. Emily thinks this is how she'd want to go, in Jess' arms, their lips connected. 

"We could stay in." Jess suggests, brushing her lips against Emily's. 

"If you want." Emily responds, clearing her throat.

"Do you want too?" Jess asks quietly, sliding on hand down the front of Emily's shirt, fingering the silver feathered necklace laced under her collar. Emily considers it, considers laying Jess down on her couch, skin pressed to skin, feel the softness between her thighs. It's something Jess wanted even though Emily had no interest in anything like that. She just liked the physical closeness, feeling Jess' heartbeat in her hands, listening to every vein sing.

Jess notices Emily's hesitation, an understanding smile sliding into place that makes Emily feel queasy. She places a soft kiss to Emily's mouth, pulling away. 

"They have tongue too."

Emily definitely doesn't want that. "Gross."

"Oh come on, it's not that bad."

If Emily were to eat anyone's tongue, it'd be Ashley's, drizzled in her blood and raw and she'd want her to watch as she devoured it.

"I can literally see your thoughts and you need to get over it." Jess grabs Emily's hand. "People make mistakes."

Emily snorts at that. People don't make mistakes that involve other people almost dying. Emily doesn't want to think about that though. She wants to hold Jess' hand and listen to how her day went, wants to hear about Jess reconfiguring a Mac out of scraps and how she rubs it into Chris' face every time she sees him.

Jess squeezes her hand as they walk, rambling on about how stupid the people who come to the tech lab are. Emily knows they are, has sat behind the counter as Jess or Chris worked on a 'broken' computer that wasn't broken to begin with, just needed an update or a firewall or other simple bullshit. But Emily could listen to Jess talk about it forever.

"Please try the tongue."

"You can't mention eyeballs and ask me to get tongue." Emily tells her. "It's rude, 1. And 2, I want eyeballs."

"You're such a priss, Em."

"You're just bitchy that I won't do what you want." Jess rolls her eyes at that, nudging Emily lightly. 

There's a small line waiting outside of Amelie's, humans, ripe and impatient in their wait. Emily didn't understand why Marie, the owner, allowed humans in at all when the second floor housed hungry ghouls who left stains in the tile. 

Jess skips the line, waltzes right up to the hostess and shines her sparkly grey eyes until the woman blushes and let's them in. A few angered mumbles trail after them. It's a satisfying noise, almost as satisfying as knowing, if she wanted, Emily could kill them all and hang their skeletons up on clothing racks. 

Marie notices them as she's leaving, smiling brightly. Her hair is bright, bright orange, a stark contrast to the deep brown of her skin, eyes darker than night. She's Jess' friend, like most of the ghouls in the city.

"Marie!" Jess greets excitedly. "I didn't know you worked today."

"I don't." Marie giggles. "I'm dropping off ingredients per Jefferson's request. We have guest coming later this week."

"Ooh, how exciting." Jess babbles.

It wasn't exciting. Emily tries to think of who could possibly be coming to Philadelphia but her mind only supplies the Goats. Marie winks at her, confirming Emily's rousing suspicion. Emily should probably tell Ashley, but she's being tugged after Jess to the second floor, the sounds of humans tinkering away at plates drowning out, muted and replaced by the sound of sloppy slurping and flesh ripping.

Ghouls sit at different tables, bibs bloodied, covered in puss and gore, various limbs and heads and organs situated precariously on top. They eat like animals, biting and gnawing. It was disgusting.

"Emily, when will you come for the dinner party?" Marie asks, directing them to an empty table near the back. She signals at a waitress. "I have only seen your beautiful rinkaku once."

Emily wrinkles her nose. She didn't like caging humans in an arena with disfigured ghouls, watching them scramble along bloodied floors as they struggled to defend themselves. Emily liked hunting in the open, watching and waiting and taking her time to tear at flesh and savor. Mike called her a sadist. Emily just had preferences.

"One day." Emily answers quietly.

Marie's eyes twinkle. "Excellent. Jessica, we must hang out soon." 

"Of course." Jess says sweetly.

Listening to them is exhausting, Jess and Marie are essentially the same person, just Jess is a bit more secretive in how ruthless she is unlike Marie. 

"Enjoy, lovelies." Marie winks before sauntering off. A waitress replaces her, smile pleasant and professional. Jess orders tongue, requesting a woman's, while Emily fiddles with her menu, eyes roaming along fancy black letters. She snaps her menu closed and hands it to the waitress, nose turned up.

Jess eyes Emily, amusement spreading across her features. She leans against the table, chin tucked into her palm, gaze rolling up to the nervous murmur of the waitress. Emily studies her face, taking in blue eyes, glimmering and sparkly.

"Your eyes are pretty." Emily remarks. "I want a head. Something that looks like yours."

Jess giggles behind her hand. The waitress stutters out an affirmative, nervously creeping away from their table. 

"Playing on the newfound fear?" Jess grins.

"Her eyes are pretty."

"Prettier than mine?"

Nothing's prettier than you, Emily thinks. "No."

Jess smiles, as if reading Emily's thoughts, lacing her fingers underneath her chin. She traces Emily's face with a longing gaze, reaching for Emily's hand. Emily allows it, clasping the soft skin in her hand.

"I know someone in Japan who ate a ghoul." Jess starts. "Well, his friend did. We should keep an eye on Chris."

"I'm already doing that." Emily replies.

Jess rolls her eyes. "Josh is fine. He won't do anything. He actually likes our nerd boy, even found that anime shrine in his closet."

Emily cracks a smile. "He's a keeper."

"I agree." Jess says, smiling. "You don't have to worry, Em."

She did though. "Okay."

The waitress returns, shakily placing a beautifully decorated plate in front of Jess. The tongue is pink, fresh and warmed lightly over coal, the smokey smell filling Emily's nose. Jess takes her hand away, clapping excitedly. Emily tucks her hands into her lap, staring at the table as the waitress sets a platter in front of her. 

It's a woman's head, color still in her face, eyes cold and empty, devoid of tongue and teeth. Blood trickles from her nose. Emily wonders if the tongue is on Jess' plate. She turns to look at the waitress, comparing the eyes. Blue. 

Emily smirks. "Perfect."

"I-I'm glad. Enjoy." The waitress says quickly, darting from the table in a blink. Jess nudges Emily's foot. Emily shrugs.

"You're such a bitch."

"Please. That wasn't even mean." Emily retorts. "She should be honored."

"Why? Because your uppity taste hasn't changed since birth?" Jess purrs, silky and deep.

"It hasn't." Emily agrees, tucking her hair behind her ears. She touches the face, feels the lifeless skin still warm. Her thumbs press into the sockets, delicately stretching bone until it snaps. Blood squirts onto Emily's shirt, her tongue already clicking in annoyance as she continues to pull. Emily's glad she wore dark clothes, the growing stain hardly noticeable. Jess watches the entire time.

Emily scoops out an eyeball, holding Jess' gaze as she slides it onto her tongue. It's not the best she's had, definitely not the freshest but Jess' heavy gaze lingers, completely entranced. 

"Mike was right."

"About what?" Emily smirks, knowing exactly what she's referring to.

"You love a good ego stroke don't you, Emily?"

"Only if it comes from you." 

Jess' elbows press into the table. She pushes herself up from her seat, reaching out to grasp the front of Emily's shirt. Her grip is shaky, insistent and Emily meets her halfway, lips brushing.

Emily kisses her, blood and all. Jess moans softly, tongue darting out to lick a drop that slides down Emily's chin.

"You're gross." Emily comments.

Jess hums in content, biting her bottom lip as she sinks back in her seat, eyes locked on Emily's mouth. 

"Stop talking to my ex-boyfriend." Emily tells her, working on the second eye. 

"He's funny." Jess picks up a fork, poking at the tongue on her plate. "Can you put this in your mouth so I can eat it?"

"That sounds like a kink."

Jess winks.

"I'm kinkshaming." Emily deadpans.

Jess pouts. "God, you're a bitch."

Emily snorts, popping the second eyeball in her mouth. Jess watches her chew, expression reminding Emily of a petulant child. Emily points at Jess' tongue, eyebrows raised. Jess huffs quietly, bringing it to her lips. She eats it but doesn't seem happy about it.

"You don't look like you're enjoying it."

"Mike gets all the fun. He gets to see you all," Jess makes a gesture. "Wild and unhinged and I get nothing but sass."

"You've seen me unhinged." Emily counters.

"Have I?"

Emily wasn't sure. She's mostly composed around Jess, except for times when she isn't, which is rare. 

"Maybe. You should come out with us."

"I don't like doing that." Jess answers, ripping the tongue apart with her fork. She just didn't like getting her hands dirty, didn't find thrill in the chase or that satisfying closure when the light fades and only empty blackness remains.

"It's not for everyone." Emily agrees.

"Did you have plans? Tonight?" Jess looks up at her.

"I might." Emily tells her. She hasn't checked her phone in the past hour. Mike liked to eat once every two weeks, which in Emily's opinion was gluttonous but she never denied tagging along when he would ask.

Jess appears disappointed but smiles anyway, feeding Emily what's left of the tongue. She wipes blood from Emily's lips, bringing it to her mouth. Emily watches her lick it off. 

The waitress returns, that pleasant smile back on her face. Emily ignores her questions, zoning out as Jess responds to each one with a practiced ease. Emily fishes a fifty from her pocket, placing it in the waitress' hand. She interrupts their discussion, rising from her seat with poise. 

"Keep the change." Emily tells her, holding out a hand to Jess. The gestures earns her an eye roll and a soft 'thank you'.

"Were you jealous, sweetheart?" Jess coos, trailing behind Emily to the stairs.

Emily's just annoyed. "No."

"That sounded like a lie." Jess sings.

"Shut up, Jessica."

"It's so hot when you say my first name." Jess sighs dreamily, clutching Emily's hand tighter. She waves to the hostess who let them in as they leave, saddling up close to Emily so they're shoulder to shoulder. 

Emily checks her phone, wordlessly kissing the top of Jess' head as the other leans against her. Two messages from Mike, one from Matt, seven from Chris. She reads Chris' first.

From: Child (6)  
Stop being mean to Ashley  
She's sensitive  
With everything going on we should stick together

All Emily can think is: gross.

From: Mattatat  
Em? Love meeeee

From: Munroe  
Matt's mad at me  
Come make me feel better

Jess is reading the messages, snorting at Mike's. She takes her hand away from Emily's, walking a bit farther ahead. Emily wonders if she's upset. 

From: Emilby  
What does that mean

Mike's response is immediate.

From: Munroe  
It means:  
Come out with me tonight.  
Let's fuck shit up.

Emily sighs through her nose, pocketing the phone. She hurries up to Jess, grasping her arm. Jess turns, hugging Emily tightly. Emily blinks, confused, but hugs back, running a hand along soft waves.

"I'm sorry that I'm not into it." 

"It's not that big of a deal." Emily responds. "It's not."

"I know." Jess mutters. "You keep saying that but.. I-I.. I feel so bad because it's something you like and you can't even do it with me."

"It's something Mike likes." Emily preferred doing it alone. 

Jess grasps Emily's shoulders, blinking back tears when her face comes in Emily's line of vision. Emily sighs, kissing the tip of Jess' nose. 

"It's a compromise. We're compromising." Emily stresses. "There are things you don't like. There are things... I can live without but I still do them for you. They don't bother me."

"Am I being stupid?"

"The stupidest." Emily smiles.

Jess laughs. "I hate you, you bitch."

"You love me." Emily jokes but Jess' expression softens considerably. It makes Emily's heart rate spike, ribs trembling with each rapid, hard beat.

"I'm still your girl."

"Will you get home okay?"

Jess nods, kissing the corner of Emily's mouth. Emily cups her chin, tilting Jess' head to the side, pecking her softly. Jess smiles.

"Come by when you're done." Jess bites her lip as she says it, eyes glittering. Emily snorts and nods, kissing Jess one last time. She watches Jess leave, hips swaying with each step. Emily considers flicking a rock at her head but instead smiles, taking her phone out.

She calls Mike.

"Does this mean my invitation has been accepted?" Mike answers smoothly.

"Ugh." Emily groans. "Where are we meeting?"

"You sound mad. I ruin another date?"

"Yes, you dick." Emily snaps. "Where?"

"I'll find you. Two minutes."

Jesus. "Yeah okay." Emily spins around, heading in the opposite direction. She hangs up, arms folded across her chest and waits, feet tapping impatiently on the sidewalk. 

Mike arrives a few moments later, grinning widely, a week old scruff collecting along his jaw. He's in his usual leather jacket, a white Henley worn underneath. Emily considers calling him an idiot but she just wants to get this over with and go back to Jess.

"At least she loves you." Mike comments. Emily punches him, hard. He whimpers, rubbing the affected spot with a pout.

"Smokin' pineapple, Em. Are you trying to rearrange the bones in my arm?"

"Just get it together with Matt so you don't keep bothering me with bullshit."

"I can't help that he's dense." Mike responds, walking alongside Emily on the sidewalk. 

"He knows you like him." Emily tells him. "You just need to come out and say it."

"He could say it too." Mike grumbles. "Isn't this hypocritical? You haven't told Jess how you actually feel."

"You sound jealous, Munroe." Emily smiles.

"I am." Mike tells her. "I think I only got 13% of the feelings you have in general and she comes in and suddenly," Mike waves dramatically. "Jess gets 100%."

"It's different with her." Emily replies. Everything with Jess is different than anything with Mike. 

"Yeah, I understand that." Mike sighs.

They trail the streets together, keeping close to shadows and one another, strolling easily through silence and street lights. Even with Jack here, hunting was still easy. 

Mike finds a couple in a car, windows foggy and steamed as it rocks back and forth. Emily's insides curl in disgust, nose wrinkling at the smell of sex. Mike gestures wildly with his eyebrows, the decision is made and Emily sighs when he pries the passenger door off the vehicle. 

There's screaming, half naked bodies flailing as a woman is separated from the car. Her skin cuts along the sidewalk, choking back wet sobs. Mike yanks her up by the ankle, watching in amusement as she wiggles and struggles, palms slapping the concrete.

The man is struggling with his pants, stumbling out the driver's door, head cocked back at her. He doesn't try to help, slamming into Emily in his attempt to run. Emily grasps his jaw in her hands, gripping it tightly as he struggles and panics. There's a scream lodged in his throat, she can hear in, buried underneath the beating of his heart.

Mike has the woman on the ground, hands buried in her ribs as she gurgles and coughs, body quivering. This isn't satisfying, to Emily. It's too easy. She didn't even have to use her kagune. Mike calls her a quitter. Emily rips the jaw from the man's face, smirking at Mike's jaw dropping 'oh shit, Em'.

"Freeze." A voice commands. It trembles slightly.

Emily tenses, the man in her hands crumpling to ground like dead weight when she drops him. Mike's head snaps up, mouth bloody, entrails slowly being chewed. 

It's a Dove, dress suit crisp under the white coat, little experience judging by the way she holds herself but she has a briefcase, silver and shiny. Emily and Mike exchange a glance, Mike slowly rising to his feet. Emily holds up a hand. Mike stills.

"Aren't you a little late?" Emily inquires.

"I-I.." The woman glances down at the two dead bodies. Her free hand clenches tightly into a fist. Regret. She faces them, anger burning in pools of blue. Her briefcase snaps open at the flick of her wrist.

Quinque: Manufactured kagune from deceased ghouls; classification: koukaku, arm.

It reminds Emily of Chris, the crafted pointed weaving into a drill, clasping around the metal pole. It's shines bright red. The woman grasps it firmly, resolution shining in her eyes. Emily almost smiles, kagune ripping from her waist. 

Mike stands to the side, a smirk on his lips as he leans against the car, ready to watch the showdown. 

"You have a quinque. How many of us have you killed?" Emily inquires, settling back on two silver tentacles, two more coming move in front of her. The woman grits her teeth, standing her ground. She doesn't answer, glancing at Mike then back to Emily. 

"He won't interrupt. You're mine." 

"They had families. Lives. Hopes and dreams." The woman bites out, tears swelling in her eyes. "You.. Monsters don't care about anyone."

Mike yawns loudly. Emily understands his boredom, her own annoyance settling in her stomach. She could say the same about them, two sides of the same coin, just Emily's come to terms with her own monstrosity, watched it fester and simmer as she held Chris back when he was 16, watching his parents die. He doesn't know she hunted those same Doves down, tracked them for weeks until she was strong enough.

Emily was a monster and she has killed many. She will kill this woman too. Emily shoots a tentacle at the woman, her patience wearing thin. The woman blocks it, teeth grinding together. She charges forward, narrowly dodging Emily's attacks. Emily clicks her tongue, pressing her feet to the ground. 

The woman lifts herself into the air, quinque poised at the ready, drill beginning to spiral as she jolts down. Emily deflects it easily, a fly being swatted out of the air. The woman sails, head cocked to the side, blood trickling out between teeth. One of Emily's tentacles snatches her ankle, yanking roughly and slamming her into the ground. 

The sound of bones breaking fills the air, a high strung whimper following. Mike wanders over to where the quinque has fallen, crouching down beside it. The woman weakly reaches for it, tears streaming down her face.

"Think you broke her legs, Em." Mike comments, straightening up.

Emily waltzes up to them, kagune whipping through the air as it slowly recedes back into her body. Her skin feels like it's on fire, anger seeping through every pore. She digs her heel into the woman's spine. 

"Oh shit, you're pissed." Mike gasps, taking an uneasy step back.

Emily doesn't give her the kindness of a quick death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next episode: shit hits the fan


	4. Mixed Tails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crow caws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: General sadness. 
> 
> Stuff didn't actually hit the fan but it will with Emily cause she can actually handle herself

Chris stands in front of the bedroom mirror, working the buttons of his shirt. There's a tickle in his throat, bottom lip aching from where he keeps worrying it with teeth. He feels nervous, leg twitching each time he stands still. 

"Fuck." Chris mutters, smoothing a hand over his button up. He rubs his eyes, glasses tumbling to the floor. Chris fights back a curse, spinning around to figure out where exactly they landed. He finds them beside his bed. 

Chris shouldn't be this nervous, shouldn't even be feeling the amount of dread that's been situated in his gut but he does. Chris had met Sam before, knows her through Matt and has had a class or two in the past year with her but the difference between then and now is Sam knows what he is.

Chris previously thought Emily was the most terrifying force known to mankind. He was wrong. A knock comes to his apartment door, the familiar tick, ta-tick tick, that is uniquely Josh's. It's a sound Chris has grown fond of. 

Chris answers, Josh pattering his knuckles against the door rapidly. Josh beams, expression bright, a thick black scarf wrapped around his neck, plaid button up too big and too loose, sleeves bunched around his elbows. His legs seem extra thin, eyes a bit bleaker, a bit darker. The bruises are mostly gone, fading remnants left behind, cuts healed and pink. 

"You okay?" Josh asks, smile falling.

"What? Y-Yeah. You look, um, good."

The smile returns. "Thanks, man. You do too."

Chris glances down at his attire, three shirts, two button ups. He should probably pull on a sweater. Chris retreats back into his apartment, heading towards his bedroom. He registers the front door closing behind him, Josh's boots clamoring across the floor. Chris grabs a sweater from his closet, pulling it on carefully. 

"I could've walked to Matt's. It's only two blocks."

"Didn't want you to walk alone." Josh remarks, plopping down on Chris' bed. "You look nervous."

"I am. Kind of." Chris sighs.

"Aw, Cochise. It's just Sam."

"You've met her right? You guys have been, what, friends since birth?"

"Something like that." Josh smiles. 

Chris turns to Josh, a miserable expression hanging off his face. Josh chuckles, eyes creasing in the corners. He rises to his feet, moving towards Chris. Josh reaches out to fix Chris' collar. 

"Sam's cool. It's going to be great. You, me, Sam and Matt."

"The Human brigade." Chris comments.

Josh punches him in the shoulder. "Shut up. You agreed to this."

"Only on the pretense of free food."

"Not like you can eat it, Cochise." Josh points out. 

Chris sighs, a faux pout on his lips. "I should stay home then."

"Definitely not." Josh smirks, reaching down to grasp Chris' hand. "I've been looking forward to this. For an entire week. A week. Do you know how long that is?"

"Seven days?" Chris clears his throat, allowing Josh to intertwine their fingers.

"A long ass time, bro." Josh answers. 

"Yeah." Chris says noncommittally. 

"You okay, man?" Josh grins, stepping closer to Chris. He bites his bottom lip, still grinning like some two year old asshole. Chris flushes, adjusting his glasses then readjusting them. His palms feel clammy, warm and slick.

"You're red." Josh breathes, gaze focused on Chris' mouth. "Really, really red."

"Shut up, Josh." Chris mutters. "We should go."

Josh deflates, squeezing Chris' hand once before letting go. He nods, embarrassment written across his face, arms folded across his chest. Chris wishes he wasn't such an awkward shit but this is the most progress he's ever made with anyone relationship wise. It's hard to talk about feeling when you're busy being balls deep, romantically speaking.

Chris grabs Josh's shoulder, the fabric smooth beneath his palm. He places a kiss to Josh's forehead, cheeks heating up. Chris pulls away, clearing his throat nervously. Josh stares at him, wide eyed and blushing.

Chris speaks first. "You okay, bro?"

"Seriously? Fuck you." Josh coughs, pinching Chris' arm. "Let's go, asshole."

Chris snickers, trailing after Josh, who is hurriedly walking towards the door. Josh taps his foot impatiently, face still a light pink. He doesn't try to hold Chris' hand when they leave, still embarrassed. Chris hides his smile in the palm of his hand, wordlessly staring around the elevator. Josh notices, burying his nose in the folds of his scarf.

"What exactly is this again?"

"It's a festival. Fall festival?" Josh shrugs. "It's fun and I get to eat my weight in cotton candy."

Chris snorts at that. "Right." 

"I even took my meds today. It's gonna be a good day. Promise."

Chris glances at Josh, taking the hand closest to his and squeezes. He didn't know much about Josh, little bits and pieces he's strung together from conversations. He knows his dad is a renowned Director who makes time in his chaotic schedule to take Josh to therapy three times a week. Chris didn't know what Josh was in therapy for, only asked once and Josh had told him he's always been like this.

Josh laces their fingers together, adjusting his scarf as they walk. It unfolds and slouches along his shoulders, far bigger than Chris originally thought, resembling a wrapped skirt than an actual scarf. Josh struggles to secure it around his neck, regret evident in his face. 

Chris pauses on the sidewalk, using his free hand to guide and wrap the fabric. His reward is a blushing smile. 

"Thanks, man."

"Sure thing."

Sam is standing outside Matt's apartment, a black mackinaw cap secured on her head, hair cropped short and damp. Her outfit mimics Josh's, except she's wearing a skirt instead of leggings. Matt stands beside her, dressed plainly in shades of black and navy, no letterman jacket in sight.

"I never thought I'd see the day." Chris comments.

"Mike, uh, has it." Matt explains weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. "He asked for it."

Chris' eyebrows shoot up, mouth falling open in shock. He makes wild gestures, hand still in Josh's, and Matt squints at him, embarrassed but smiling. Chris really wants to say how middle school that gesture is, wearing your crush's jacket and bringing it back smelling like you.

"Yeah. I guess." Matt supplies. "We're.. talking."

"What does that even me?" Chris asks.

Sam lifts an eyebrow at Chris, gaze dropping to his and Josh's linked hands before dragging back up to his face, a smirk in place. She doesn't have to say anything, the warning clear and bright like fire spreading through a forest. Chris has never met a more terrifying human being. 

"Like you and Josh." Matt says helpfully, not noticing the tension building in the air. Josh clams up, clearing his throat and he looks away when he holds Chris' hand tighter. Chris didn't consider his and Josh's relationship 'talking', they've only held hands and Josh has fallen asleep curled up in his lap more than once now. Chris is also an idiot, he realizes, noting the way Sam rolls her eyes. Okay, they were talking.

He wonders if she can smell fear.

"We're going to miss the train." Josh says. "We should go." 

"Em said she'd meet us there." Matt tacks on.

Sam reaches for Josh's other hand. He takes it, pulse racing against Chris' skin when she steps closer. Chris isn't sure what that means but he lets go of Josh, stepping up to Matt to read the message he's burning through.

From: Queen  
I have something for you.  
It's getting dangerous.  
Also I'll be late.  
Jess.

"That explains a lot." Chris says.

Matt nods in agreement. He beckons the other two to follow after, tapping his wrist to suggest the time. Sam and Josh are still holding hands, Chris wishes he didn't feel sick all of a sudden.

"Ashley was going to come but she's pissed at Em. I told her to stay." Chris tells Matt. "No need for unnecessary drama, right?"

"Oh thank god." Matt sighs, relieved. He smiles. "I was worried. I don't think I can handle another one of their fights."

Chris agrees, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of giggling. Sam is pressed close to Josh, hand folded over his ear as she whispers softly. There's a wide smile on Josh's face, carefree and lovely.

"They're always like that." Matt must notice Chris' dejection. "Josh says they've been friends since grade school. Sam was his sister's best friend."

Chris looks at Matt. "Josh has sisters?"

"He, uhm, used to. They went missing when Josh was a freshman in high school." Matt explains, "He hardly talks about them."

"Oh." 

"Cheer up, guy. He can't stop talking about you." Matt grins widely, reaching around to squeeze Chris' shoulder. "Josh likes you, Chris. Plus you've got cool ghoul powers."

"There's nothing cool about them, Matt." Chris huffs.

"Em told me how rare it is for a ghoul to have two kagunes. Does he know? That aside from being an octopus, you are also a pine tree?"

Chris punches Matt gently causing the other to laugh in response. Chris smiles, heart feeling a bit lighter and he's glad to have Matt around. 

The train station isn't busy, a couple of stragglers hanging around stone columns, bundled up for winter. Matt pays for their tickets, his excuse being Emily gave him fifty dollars because she was tired of watching him walk everywhere. Josh stands beside Chris on the platform, quiet, rocking back and forth on his heel. Sam is talking with Matt on his other side.

"How long have you know Matt?" Josh asks.

Chris shrugs. "Mm. I just met him last year. Emily knew him first. Introduced us."

"How'd she meet him?"

"I think they dated." Chris wasn't entirely sure how that origin story went or however their relationship ended, just one day he came home to his apartment and Emily was standing in his bedroom, covered in blood and filth and said she couldn't be with Matt anymore. Chris knows Matt has three deep scars that wrap across his back. He's not sure what happened that day but Emily doesn't talk about it and neither does Matt.

"You took your hand away." Josh says softly.

"Uh." 

"Did you want to? You did it.. when Sam came over." Josh is looking at him. The train whistles by, gusts of trapped air expelling around them. It slows to a stop, cars rocking slightly before settling. The doors slide open, Matt and Sam heading inside, laughing softly.

Josh doesn't move, waiting for Chris' answer.

"No." Chris answers. "I didn't want too."

"Why did you?"

Chris shrugs, testing words in his mouth, rolling them around on his tongue until he can conjure up how to say 'it seemed like something I should do' without sounding like an idiot. 

"Dude, hurry up." Matt calls, nervously glancing at the emptying platform. Chris takes Josh's hand, tugging him onto the train with little resistance. He stands at the door, Josh beside him while Matt and Sam occupy a window seat, drumming the tune to YMCA on the plastic seats.

"You know I like you, right?" 

Chris glances down at Josh. "Yeah."

"You know that.. I like you a lot, right?"

"Is that your survivor's debt talking?"

Josh punches him, nostrils flared in annoyance. "No, dumbass."

The punch kind of hurt, more like a sharp tickle than an actual punch but judging by Josh's closed off expression, the reddish tint lining his knuckles it was meant to hurt. 

"Sorry." 

Josh punches him again. "You're an asshole."

"Yeah."

Josh doesn't say anything else, body swaying slightly as the train moves. He stands in front of Chris, staring intently at Chris' sweater like its offended him. His grip around Chris' hand is hard. Chris didn't mean to upset him, the tack of pleasant conversations sweeping along his mind. Chris brushes his thumb over Josh's knuckles, once then twice, watching the tension fade away like a sigh.

"I'm not sticking around because you saved my life, Chris. Or because I feel like I owe you. I mean, I do. But I could send you a thank you card or somethin'." Josh lifts his head. "You're fun to be around. I like being around you."

"That sounds fake but okay." Chris smiles.

"Shut the fuck up." Josh bites out. 

Chris tips his head, placing a quick peck to Josh's forehead. It earns him another, albeit weaker, punch and a bright red Josh Washington. Chris catches Sam's gaze from where she sits, a fond smile on her face. It fades when she notices Chris staring. Her shoulders lift with a sigh. She winks at Chris.

The train ride isn't long, thirty minutes north of Philly to a part of Pennsylvania Chris doesn't recognize. It's closer to New Jersey, the distant welcome sign disappearing as the train rounds in the opposite direction. Chris can see a Ferris wheel, drawn up high, colored pink and red with tiny lanterns. Chris has never been on one and it seems fitting that his first experience should be with Josh. 

This was Matt's idea, so he leads, rattling on about how great the deep fried Oreos are. Sam makes a joke about how it probably tastes like shit, Chris tacking on about how everything tastes like shit. She laughs at it, so Chris counts that as a win. 

It's the weirdest festival Chris has ever been to, resembling a shit version of a carnival with a bobbing apples station and a man who spits fire through his nose. It's impressive, human, Chris notes and that's all he's surrounded by; humans. Chris nearly sighs in relief.

"Sammy! Cotton candy!" Josh chirps excitedly, releasing Chris' hand as he bounces over to a cotton candy stand, Sam hot on his heels. Chris glances at Matt. Matt shrugs, clearly uninterested in anything candy related.

"I don't care for sweets. Except for deep fried Oreos."

"That still sounds fucking nasty."

"It is, but it's so good, man." Matt sighs dreamily. "I'd say have some but you can't. Personally I don't want to coax you through another vomit session."

Chris didn't want that either, smiling in amusement when the others return with more than four sticks of cotton candy. It ends up in Josh's hair, clinging to his scarf and Sam's hat as they eat excitedly. It's disgusting.

"Animals." Matt comments.

"Agreed."

"Oh shut up." Sam says. "Let's go find your Oreos so you can be gross with me. Will you two be joining us?"

Josh shakes his head, smacking his lips, tossing a freshly cleaned plastic stick in a nearby trashcan. He works on the second roll of cotton candy and points to the Ferris wheel. Sam sends Chris a weird look, Matt winking suggestively.

"God, please, leave." Chris groans, slapping a hand against his forehead. They do, but not before sharing a knowing glance, grinning manically. 

Josh grabs Chris' hand, directing him towards the growing line for the Ferris wheel. They manage to snatch a decent spot in line, nearly cutting off another couple who seemed persistent. The wait isn't bad, four, maybe five minutes of waiting, minutes of listening to Josh eat a worryingly large amount of cotton candy. 

"I have many regrets." Josh says once he finishes the last one. He sounds sick. "Oh my god, Chris. Why did you let me do this?"

"You did this to yourself. Accept the consequences."

"Cochise, why are you so mean?" Josh whines.

"I'm getting on this stupid thing for you so I'm pretty nice."

Josh nudges him, leaning his head against Chris' shoulder. The fair employee beckons them, prying the carriage door open with less enthusiasm. It wobbles when Chris steps on, regret already filling his ribs with dread. Josh urges him inside, buzzing happily as he plops down beside Chris. The door closes, carriage rocking slightly as it begins the slow ascent.

Chris barely makes out the passengers above them, watching it rock back and forth slowly as laughter echoes. Josh stares out the window, transfixed, expression warmed with awe as they move higher and higher. Chris isn't paying attention, eyes locked on Josh. The setting sun dips over his sharp features, softening them into something young, something sweet.

Josh glances at Chris, pushing his hair back as a soft pink tint dusts his cheeks. He doesn't say anything, biting at his lips, gaze dropping. Chris places a hand on Josh's knee, tilting forward. Josh meets him the rest of the way, grasping Chris' collar. 

Josh tastes like salt, mouth scratchy and cold, lips dry, but the inside is hot, soft and wet and it makes Chris' stomach flip at how nice it tastes. Chris has never tasted a honeysuckle but it's probably a lot like kissing Josh. He clutches at Josh's knee, pressing closer, eyes slipping closed as his tongue slides along Josh's. 

Josh breathes, pushing at Chris' shoulder, mouth moving, insistent and so damn hot. He breaks away, lips puffy, eyes hooded and dark. Josh presses Chris back against the cold seat, sliding onto his lap, leaning back in. 

Chris sighs, holding Josh close, both hands settled on the other's hips, grip tight. Josh moans softly, raking a hand through Chris' hair, spine arching up into Chris' hand as it slides along his back.

Chris can faintly hear voices drawing near, gravity shifting as the carriage is pulled downward. Josh's mouth is still attached to his, distracting and lovely and it's hard to want to stop. 

"We're close." Chris manages, heart beating loudly in his chest. Josh nods, distant, a noncommittal noise ringing from his throat. Chris kisses him again. Josh lingers, fixing Chris' collar, noses brushing. 

"Let's go back around." Josh suggests.

It's tempting, Chris thinks, pulling lightly at Josh's scarf until it unfolds. He leans forward, lips trailing along the skin of Josh's neck. Josh tilts his head, hands back in Chris' hair. The voices are growing closer, louder, more distinct and clear and honestly, Chris can't believe he's cockblocking himself.

"Or we can go back to my place. Think of the children." Chris pecks Josh's growing pout.

"Fuck the children."

"That's the rudest thing you've ever said."

Josh snickers. "You just met me."

Josh helps Chris with his hair, chuckling like an asshole when the strands refuse to stay together. Chris nudges him roughly, eyes darting to the opening carriage door. Josh fixes his scarf, righting it around his neck. He winks at the blushing employee as they leave, Chris nudging him roughly.

Sam and Matt are waiting beside the line to the Ferris wheel, Sam looking increasingly uncomfortable with each second she stands there watching Matt devour a dripping, gooey handful of fried Oreos.

"That's fucking gross." Josh chuckles. Chris thinks it looks like a person's insides if you left it out in the sun too long, intestines fried and drooping, bites of white bone. 

Sam glances at Josh, sizing him up slowly. Her eyes turn to Chris, categorizing and she's plucking a ten dollar bill from her purse and smacking it into Matt's hand. Josh deflates.

"Seriously, guys?"

"I thought you'd last another week." Sam mumbles, grumpy. "We're meeting Emily at the funnel cakes."

Sam beckons them to follow, stepping backwards, hands digging in her purse. She procures her phone, spinning on her heel, angling just so. The flash goes off. Chris' nostrils flare. Josh groans weakly from his side, Matt grimacing, the tip of his nose covered in melted white icing.

Sam grins widely, eyes focused on the picture. She stumbles into someone, mouth dropping open in apology. "Oh man. I'm so sorry!"

"It's quite alright." 

Chris raises his head, recognizing the sound of that voice, fear spreading through him. He's only met Patrick once, with Emily after his parents died. The man was far older than them but he gave them a place to stay. The CCG called him the Crow, his affiliation with the Petty Goats known across the states. It was still a stupid name but seeing Patrick again, standing in front of Sam was terrifying.

Chris tenses. Patrick gives him a warm smile.

"My, my. Fancy this meeting." Patrick says, running a hand over the front of his dress shirt. "How long has it been, Christopher? Four years? Three?"

"Three." Chris answers, the other three turning to him. His heart beats rapidly in his chest, goosebumps running down his arms the longer he stand before Patrick. "These are my friends."

"Ah, I see." Patrick replies, clasping his hands behind his back. Josh steps closer to Chris, wrapping a hand around his wrist. The gesture doesn't go unnoticed. Patrick's eyes shine in recognition, a small smile on his face.

"It's been a long time, Joshua. How is your father?" 

Chris heckles, alarmed, glancing down at Josh, who seems equally confused. He gives a half assed 'okay' and Chris commends him internally on how level his voice sounds. Josh's grip tightens. Patrick hums pleasantly.

"Excellent. I must say this is a turn of events." He says. "I came here looking for a bird and yet, here I find, an old friend, the last Washington and lunch."

Chris takes a step forward. Patrick grins. His nose wrinkles, eyes roaming over Chris in a way that makes his skin crawl. He moves through Matt and Sam, their expressions varying between discomfort and wary. Patrick tilts forward, arms still clasped behind his back, nose brushing along Chris' ear. He sniffs once, then twice, a wide smile forming when he straightens.

"Seems your tastes have changed. Our kind? How exciting, Christopher."

Chris swallows thickly, skin bubbly and hot. Patrick pats his shoulder as he walks by, an amused chuckle filling Chris' ears. He can't breathe, phlegm building along his windpipe. Chris forces it down, tongue pushing against his teeth hard. He glances back. Patrick is gone.

"Are you okay?" Josh asks softly.

Matt steps up to him, concerned. He places a comforting hand on Chris' shoulder. Sam reaches out to touch his arm, emotions warring across her face. Panic, fear, hesitation. Chris nods. 

"Yeah, yeah. Just.. an old friend."

"Some friend." Matt comments but he knows about Patrick, about the Goats.

"We should go." Chris suggests, Sam nodding enthusiastically. They find Emily where she said she'd be, a dark pair of sunglasses on her face. She doesn't smile but the muscles in her jaw flex which is the same thing. Emily slides her sunglasses off, taking in their sullen expressions with a thin lipped frown.

"What happened?"

"Patrick's here." Chris tells her. "Can we go?"

"Jesus. Fine." Emily huffs irritably. Chris knows it's not directed at him, her entire demeanor shifting into a simmering, quiet anger. She procures her phone from her pocket, typing rapidly.

"If he's here.. What does that mean?" Sam asks.

"It means a Dove is here." Matt answers. "It means.. a lot of people are going to die."

Sam's jaw drops, gasping softly. She places a hand over her mouth, staring intently at the ground. 

"We can't help them." Emily says curtly. "It's bad enough a Goat is here, let alone the leader. If the Doves are here as well it doesn't bode well for us. It's not like we're playing for either team."

A child giggles not far from them, wailing loudly when her father lifts her up onto his shoulders. She grasps a pink bunny from an arrangement of stuffed animals dangling over a game of horseshoe, babbling excitedly. Josh's hand trembles in his.

"Let's go." Josh says quietly. 

The walk to the train station is unsettling, quiet. Sam keeps glancing back at the fading festival, Emily holding Matt's arm, Josh staring intently down at their moving feet. 

Josh tenses up, head turning to look over his shoulder and maybe if Chris wasn't distracted, wasn't solely focused on the drum of Josh's heart, the blood rushing under his skin, he would've heard it.

Screaming. 

Sam hurries to them, clasping Chris' sleeve, a tiny whimper escaping her throat. Chris wraps an arm around her, trying his best to provide comfort. Matt and Emily continue on. Chris can see the unease resting in Matt's shoulders. 

No one says anything, the playful banter dead and left behind as the train rolls. Sam doesn't drum the beat to YMCA, Chris can't find it in himself to clown on Matt about Mike. He wants to say you get used to it, it gets better like Emily used to. Chris doesn't.

Emily holds his gaze the entire ride back, expression soft, so painfully sympathetic. She doesn't walk with them to Matt's apartment, just says to come by later, her voice small and meek. Sam comes though, nervously wedging herself between Chris and Matt. 

Josh is quiet, only releasing Chris' hand once they're tucked away inside his apartment. Sam watches him disappear into his bedroom, the door falling shut behind him.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks.

Chris realizes she's talking to him. He clears his throat. "Uhm, yeah. Thanks."

Sam smiles softly. "Are you staying?"

Chris glances back to the closed bedroom door. He shrugs. Matt urges Chris towards it.

"Go."

Chris isn't sure what he can do but he concedes, dragging his feet along the carpet. The door isn't locked so he slips inside, pushing it closed behind him. Chris can hear the shower running, standing outside Josh's bathroom. There's steam frothing at the bottom of the closed door. Sam's soft voice floats in from the living room, Matt's following after. Chris closes his eyes, forehead resting heavily against the door.

It was supposed to be a good day.

Chris grips the door knob, warm metal heavy in his hand, pulsing like a vein. He turns it softly. The bathroom is foggy, heat nearly suffocating, thick with whitish film. Chris can make out Josh's form sitting in the middle of the shower, shoulders slouched, head tilted downwards. His skin is red and Chris realizes he's trembling.

Josh doesn't say anything, doesn't turn at the sound of the door closing, blankly staring at the tops of his knees. Chris adjusts the temperature, slipping out of his sweater. He rolls up his sleeves, then his jeans until they're folded to his knees, changing the dial to fill the tub. Chris steps in beside Josh, nervously running a hand along the other's bare shoulders.

Josh tenses.

Chris holds his breath.

Josh forces out a sigh, muscles straining to relax under Chris' hand. He buries his face into his knees. Chris isn't sure what to say, what he can say and it feels like this is all his fault, it probably was. 

Chris cups warm water in between his hands, pouring it gently along Josh's skin. He takes the loofah dangling from the shower head, pumping it up with an unnecessary amount of bath wash. It smells like almonds and pine trees. Chris lathers it up in his hands, jaw ticked to one side.

He can't figure out what to say. 

Josh doesn't react when Chris starts rubbing soapy circles into his back, doesn't protest when his arms are lifted and placed, head tilted back, expression passive as Chris scrubs. The water colors pink, pink and white, small trills of steam floating up.

Chris takes Josh's shampoo from the corner and sniffs the contents. It's surprisingly fruity, a lot like something Chris imagines would be in Jess' bathroom. He pours a bit into his hands, hesitating. Josh tilts his face from Chris, hands wedged under his knees. Chris inches forward, working fingers through tangles and dirt, following the circular motions he's making distantly. 

It's soothing to watch. Rotate thumb, massage slowly, repeat. Josh sighs, leaning into the touch. Chris keeps at it. The faucet drips quietly. Chris thinks of his mom, thinks of the first time he washed his hair without her aid. Seven years old, covered in suds and crying because he managed to get shampoo in his eyes.

Chris rinses Josh's hair as best he can, listening to the hurried drips of water and soap fall into the tub. Josh is staring at him, lips parted, the same warm gaze he gave Chris when he showed up on his doorstep. 

Chris drains the tub, coaxing Josh to sit on the edge as he dries his hair. It's not very gentle but Josh doesn't say anything as Chris roughly shuffles the towel along his head. Just stares ahead numbly, rocking each time Chris runs the towel over his skin.

Chris fetches a shirt from Josh's room, relieved to see Josh is sitting on the toilet, damp and naked instead of wallowing on the side of the tub. The shirt is big on Josh, hilariously so, baggy like most of Josh's clothes but Josh snuggles into it as Chris plops down in front of him on the floor. Josh's gaze drags up to meet his.

"Why don't you like it?"

Chris blinks. "Like what?"

"Killing people." Josh explains, voice timid. "It's an avoidance of your nature, don't you think?"

Chris shrugs. He never thought about it too often, only when his hunger would get too bad and Emily would be waiting outside his apartment. 

"I don't want to be the reason a kid wakes up one day and their parents are gone." Chris says slowly. "Or the reason a neighborhood is woken up to the sound of a woman screaming because the police are saying her son is dead. I.. I don't want that."

Chris has experienced something similar, blurred images of his father's smiling face, his mother's head. He barely remembers that night, memories clamping down on insignificant details but he remembers waking up in Emily's car and her saying he could never go back home.

Josh nods.

Chris places his hands on Josh's knees, tipping forward slightly. Josh leans in, foreheads pressing together and sighs. He takes one of Chris' hands in his, grip shaky and weak. His fall eyes shut.

"Did you know him? Patrick?"

Josh shakes his head. "Not really. He looked familiar."

"Okay, that's okay." Chris says. It wasn't really, a bit worrisome, considering Josh was now associated with Chris. He didn't know what that meant. But Patrick knew Josh and Chris can't help but wonder if it had anything to do with the half ghoul he saw standing on the apartment building beside Matt's.

"Please," Josh licks his lips. "Please, tell me everything will be okay."

Chris could do that. "Everything will be okay."

"Will you stay?"

"Yeah."

Josh squeezes Chris' hand. "Thank you."

Chris rises to his feet, tugging lightly at Josh's hand until the other stands, knees wobbling slightly. He leads Josh into his bedroom, flicking the bathroom light off. Sam's voice is no longer on the other side of the closed door, neither is Matt's, apartment silent and calm.

Chris slides into Josh's bed, jeans still bunched up around his knees. Josh takes the opposite side, blinking tiredly, fingers shaky in Chris' hold.

"Everything will be okay." Chris repeats.

Josh nods, tears lining his eyes. He wipes at his face, mouth pinched into a thin line. Josh shifts forward, tucking his head underneath Chris' chin. Chris wraps an arm around Josh, staring into the setting silence. He doesn't say anything. Neither does Josh.

Chris falls asleep with Josh's hand in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Episode: Emily gives Matt something neat and drags Chris to chicken practice


	5. Beetle's Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily's never too old to try new things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: cannibalism, violence, gross friendship, family values

"What is it?"

"It's a Dove's." Emily states simply, arms folded across her chest. She doesn't emphasize that it's the quinque of a woman she tortured then shared with Mike. Matt sits beside her, knees pressed to his chest as he regards the silver briefcase uncomfortably. There's a question in his face but the answer is there too, Matt's lips pinching in bitter acknowledgement.

Emily is glad that he understands, that she doesn't have to worry as much about him as much as she has to worry about Chris. Matt sighs heavily. He looks at her, unsmiling, face devoid of the usual softness. It's hard, crystallized fear situated between his teeth and Emily reaches out to touch his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Matt."

Matt sighs, running a hand down his face. "It's fine. Not your fault."

"Mike knows so he'll be by later."

Josh's bedroom door cracks open, said owner stumbling out, button up crisp and navy, a knit cardigan falling off his shoulders. He rubs his eyes furiously, two notebooks tucked under his arm, and pulls his bedroom door closed, jumping when he notices them.

"Oh. Sorry." Josh ducks his head, rounding the table. He squeezes Matt's shoulder as he passes, nodding towards Emily and he's gone, the soft click of the front door filling the silence.

Matt turns to her. "We can't leave?"

"We could." Emily nods but her mind is already calculating how far they could actually go with the Doves closing in. Jack Fessenden was here but there had been no movement from him, only whispers on Predator's Anonymous and how Patrick Zippy murdered a Dove at the fall festival, taking four humans with him. There was a body count, some double digit number, but Emily didn't bother reading. Ashley told her to be safe. Emily told her to go fuck herself.

"So let's go." Matt stresses, placing his feet on the ground. "Jess will go where you go. Mike doesn't care so he'll leave to. I don't know about Ashley but if you asked Chris, he'd come to. You know that."

Emily does. She also knows that Chris wouldn't leave Josh behind and as much as she prides herself on having raised him, Emily knows if Josh stayed, Chris would too because it's who he is and she would also stay because it's who she is.

"I'll talk to him." Emily says instead of what she knows Matt doesn't want to hear. She rises to her feet, palms pressing into the table. Matt places a hand over hers. 

"If you stay, obviously I will too." 

Emily glances at him, his palm warm and heavy over her skin. She moves away, touching his shoulder lightly. Matt sighs, mouth twisted up and pathetic. Emily wonders if he'll cry. She's only seen it once; him trembling over her with blood in his teeth, the dead body of a Dove not too far from them. Matt had cried. Matt had killed someone for her.

"I know." Emily bends down, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "It's why we've been friends for so long."

Matt forces out a chuckle. "Yeah."

"I'll come by later." Emily tells him. She needed to see Chris, preferably Jess as well. Matt nods, touches her elbow as she goes and remains seated at the table, eyes locked on the briefcase. 

Emily walks home, the tease of snow in the air, chilled, brittle breeze flowing by every so often. She wraps her scarf a little higher, mind buzzing with fog and empty plans. Arguably, they could leave, pack up tonight, be on the train to anywhere tomorrow but Emily didn't know where they'd go, where they'd end up. It didn't sit well with her, not knowing, absent thoughts that feel a lot like acknowledgement.

Emily takes the stairs instead of the elevator, tensing up when she smells another ghoul in the building; it's not Chris, not robust enough, too mellow and cold. Emily pauses at the exit, staring through the clear glass of the stairway. She breathes. 

They've noticed her.

Emily pushes the door open, hands fisted at her sides, kagune tickling in her waist.

YoungHa smiles, posture relaxed, yellow eyes amused and pleasant. A red poncho hangs over their shoulders, the loose frills of a black skirt stopping just before their bare feet. They're standing in front of Chris' apartment door.

"I wonder if you two will ever separate."

Emily doesn't say anything, taking a step forward. YoungHa takes a step back, folding a hand over their abdomen, tilting forward.

"I am not here to fight, Emily." YoungHa states. "I'm merely... curious."

"You people aren't curious." Emily responds.

YoungHa grins. "Oh you are correct. But I am. You understand? How is it that the boy who cringes at the mere idea of hunting humans can devour one of our own so easily? Hm?"

Emily had no response for that, the words dying on her tongue. She could say he was hungry, starving, two months past the due date but what did that mean to a Goat? What did it mean to another ghoul when everyone knows there was a human present that could've died instead?

YoungHa regards her curiously. "Ah, you are also perplexed." A giggle. "Have you read the reports? In Japan? About the cannibalizing one eyed ghoul?"

Yes. "No."

"Pity." YoungHa clicks their teeth. "I'd hate for your precious boy to succumb to such a madness. I wonder how it is. How it tastes. Ghouls. Have you wondered?"

"No." Emily grinds out, skin crawling at the thought. She's never considered eating another ghoul. 

"It's a way to power." YoungHa adds. "Intense, insurmountable amounts of power. It's an interesting thing to consider. Sacrifice in the name of progress. Cannibalism in the name of consuming. Isn't that what humans say? Harvest the enemy, gain their power? Are ghouls enemies to another ghoul?"

Emily isn't sure what to say, what YoungHa is implying but their stare sets Emily's insides ablaze, eyes cold and knowing. YoungHa smiles again.

"Food for thought. I'll take my leave. Take care, Emily. We'll be in town for a while."

Emily watches them go, steps fluid and unbothered. She tracks their smell until it disappears, body unable to relax or cool down. Her mind frazzles, teeth grinding together, hands clenched into fists.

"Fuck." Emily bites out. "F-Fucking. Fuck. Fuck." 

Emily waits outside Chris' apartment until he comes home, legs folded underneath her as she sits on the nasty, pigmented floor. Laughter reaches her ears, vaguely registering and categorizing whose is whose and it doesn't surprise her when Josh is with Chris. 

Chris' smile drops, alarm filtering through his body and her expression must remind him of something, of someone because Chris is rushing up to her, those red veins already spreading from his eyes, teeth clenched tight.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Chris kneels down beside her, placing a thick hand on her shoulder. Emily isn't sure what to say, no quip or watered down fire biting at her tongue. 

Josh stands near them, nervously glancing around. His shoulders are hunched, defensive like a spring trap wound up to far. Emily forces herself to look at Chris, taking in the beginning paleness, that slight rumble of hunger deep in his veins.

Emily wonders if Chris notices. The subtle changes, a constant worrying nag that keeps making you look over your shoulder, icky nerves that feel a lot like fire, dread and sinking and Emily notices, the way their tiny home, their city is shrinking and evaporating under their fingertips. 

Or maybe he doesn't, Emily's known him for too long to not notice when Chris is refusing to acknowledge anything. He's snapped on her twice now, those familiar blackened eyes lit up like fireworks in July. Chris always apologizes. Emily wishes he'd realize he never has to with her. 

"Can he leave?" Emily asks.

Chris hesitates briefly before nodding. He stands, turning to Josh. "Rain check?"

Josh's gaze flickers between them. He nods slowly, patting the side of Chris' arm as he heads back towards the elevator. Chris watches him go. He turns back to Emily.

"We need to talk."

Chris bristles, "Look, Em. I'm not-"

"Chris. Please."

There are days when Emily thinks they've been brought up too differently, that those 12 years before their chance meeting had shaped and formed them into two different kinds of monsters. Today isn't one of them, Chris' acceptance of her invitation weighing heavily in the way he holds himself. He holds out his hand.

Emily takes it. 

"What was so important that I had to reschedule Cowboy Bebop and chill?"

Emily raises an eyebrow at him, steady hands unbuttoning her blouse. She's standing in front of Chris, face passive and thoughtful, eyes turned to the ceiling. Emily scoffs.

"It's not even that good. It's mostly filler."

Chris gasps softly. "Okay but-"

"It's not that good, Christopher." Emily cuts him off with a swipe of her hand, shrugging black the black fabric off her shoulders. Chris averts his eyes, tapping the arms of the recliner he's sitting in. It's smooth white leather, complimenting nearly every piece of deep chestnut furniture Emily has situated around her apartment. A folded card from Jess sits on her window ledge, beautiful handwriting peaking out from the inside.

"Does Josh like it?"

Chris turns to her. "Like what?"

Emily rolls her eyes, "Cowboy Bebop." 

Chris stammers, a blush creeping up his neck and Emily smirks, shimmying out of her dark jeans. She gestures to a spot on his neck, Chris' hand flying up to clamp over it, hot with embarrassment. 

"He must've bit hard." 

"Oh my god, Emily. Please."

Emily chuckles, wandering over to her closet, reaching around to snap her bra. She slides it down her arms, absently tossing it aside as she thumbs through a new outfit, something darker, something boring. 

"I can smell him on you." Emily says as if noticing Chris' growing panic. "It's not hard. You smell like a human, Chris."

"I can't help it." Chris huffs. "He's hot."

Emily nods, fighting back a smile. She tries to think of the last time Chris seemed this into anyone, this embarrassed or frazzled. It makes her feel a bit motherly, a bit like she's years older than him. 

"As long as it isn't Ashley." Emily comments, yanking a crop top off a hanger. She tugs it on, adjusting and angling until her chest feels tight. 

"You've got to get over that. It's not healthy."

"You definitely have no right to talk to me about healthy." Emily snorts, turning to him. "It's been almost a month."

Chris tenses. "It's fine. No big deal, Em."

"You said that last time and look what happened."

"I got a hot date?" 

Emily glares at him, annoyance prickling under her fingernails. YoungHa's words rest in her mind, fresh and throbbing. 

"Did you know her name?"

"Who?"

"The ghoul you ate."

Chris looks up at her, mouth falling open, expression so painful. It closes off, Chris clamping down and Emily can hear the way his teeth grind into one another. She waits, has learned patience is a good way of getting him to talk. 

Emily leans back against her bed, hands coming to rest in her lap. She regards him closely, studiously calculating each vein twitch, each uncomfortable lip bite. 

"No." Chris admits quietly. "I didn't recognize her at all."

"You need to eat."

"Em-"

"I expected a lot from you, Chris, but none of it involved you being so far gone that you pick apart someone just like us." 

"It could've been Josh." Chris defends weakly. He stares down at his hands. "I..It could've been him." 

"But it wasn't. And if you fucking listened it wouldn't be anyone who wasn't already dead."

A pause. "Yeah. I know."

"What if it was someone stronger than you, Chris? What if.." You didn't come back and Emily would be left here alone with only remnants of him, rotting and dusting next door. Emily doesn't say that, lets her words hang in the air until Chris looks up at her again. He looks miserable, sullen and pissy and she knows it's not what he wants to hear or think about but they can't both be idiots.

"Ok."

"I'll call Mike." Emily says, straightening. She moves towards her bedroom door, pausing when Chris' hand reaches out to grab her wrists. He looks embarrassed.

"W-Will you come with me?" Chris asks meekly. "Last time, it didn't go very well. Obviously." 

"I literally just took off my bra, Christopher." Emily bitches but she snatches her hand away and walks back to her closet. She tries to complain as she dresses but nothing comes to mind. 

Chris is waiting by the front door when she reemerges, texting rapidly on his cell phone. The screen was still badly cracked, nasty looking splinters of glass. 

"Texting the lover boy?"

Chris blushes, quickly locking his phone. "Shut up, Emily."

"It's gross."

"You and Jess aren't much better."

"We're prettier."

Chris looks like he's about to argue, mouth opening then closing, brow furrows. He shrugs, nodding slowly before bumping Emily's shoulder roughly. It reminds her of when they were kids, just Chris doesn't sport as many freckles as he used to, holds himself a bit taller. 

Chris catches her staring as they stand in the elevator, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Stop."

"What?" Emily blinks innocently.

"You're staring."

"Can you prove it?"

Chris gapes, "I can fucking feel my skin melting. You're staring, Em."

Emily clicks her tongue. "Seems like you have very little evidence to support your claim."

Chris raises his hands in disbelief. There's a smile, faint, barely a movement of lips. He lets her off first, grumbling under his breath about how proof is bullshit. Emily considers responding, listens to his soft bitching the entire time they walk to Etcetera and bites back a smile.

"Why are you laughing?" Chris pouts. 

"I'm not."

"You are. Your jaw twitched. I'm an expert on nonverbal communication with Emily."

Emily groans. "Please don't talk like that."

"I can't help-"

Chris knocks into a nearby building, a gust of wind forced between them as Emily dodges a projected red spike. It nearly catches her, slicing across the front of her shirt as she leans back. 

Emily can hear Chris coughing, eyes narrowing dangerously as another spike darts through the growing darkness and smoke. Her kagune rips out of her waist, silver tentacle deflecting each hardened strike. The visibility is poor, sounds of crumbling brick filling her ears, flashes of white on blue, sparking and quick.

Emily huffs, annoyed, focusing on the trajectory of the spikes. More narrow misses, Emily's brain quickly scanning the mist, lining up the shots of red and- 

Emily steps to the side, kagune darting out. It connects with skin, a shrill cry filling the air as the snap of bone follows. The mist grows clear, Chris panting a few feet away from her, face devoid of glasses, whitened disjointed bone curling along his right side. 

Emily stills, not recognizing the shape his kagune has taken. It's deformed, edgeless warped replica, hardened and solid like the formation of a cocoon. A low giggle pulls Emily from her thoughts.

There's a woman, blackened eyes wild, red veins webbing her eyes. Her smile is wide, bright, gums bloodied and pink. An armored kagune rests on her shoulder, jagged and bulky, reptilian scales cascading along the sharp point that parallels her arm. A man comes to stand beside her, eyes hollow and tired, spiked translucent red wings sprouting from his back. His shoulder is hacked up, cells rushing to meld the skin back together.

"If it isn't the Spider." The woman smiles.

Chris glances at Emily. "Really? That's what they call you?"

"Please, let's not." Emily says curtly. She moves towards him slowly, kagune writhing through the air. "What the fuck is up with your arm?"

"I don't know." Chris whispered hurriedly. "It's all very new to me."

"Fucking Christ, Christopher."

The woman clears her throat, impatience rolling off her in waves. "We have no business with you. We're after him."

Chris stiffens. Emily grabs his hand. The man's eyes narrow sharply, wings pointing upward.

"We received word that he killed our sister."

Oh, fuck. Emily glances back at Chris, whose face is slowly morphing from wary to horrified acknowledgment. 

"We will not hesitate to kill you if you interfere." The man says. Emily nearly laughs, bristling. 

"Two on two sounds like fun."

The woman's eyes narrow, arm flexing as she readies her stance. The two exchange a look. Emily squeeze Chris' hand, ignoring the hesitant look he's wearing. She releases it, another pair of tentacles pressing out. 

The man springs into the air, wings fluttering beautifully red and he charges down the same time the woman darts towards them, shoulder cocked back, the sharpened of her kagune raised for him. She's nearly as fast as the other, kicking up dirt with her heels. Emily registers the attack, mind forming a counter and she pushes Chris to the side, exchanging a quick glance.

It's a slow moment, a quiet passing of energy and time but Chris nods in understanding, rinkaku spreading out from his waist and it's been years since Emily's seen him use both kagunes at the same time. It never fails to mesmerize her. 

Emily takes the woman, deflecting each quick swing. There's no power behind it, no strong opposing force and she knows this woman, this avenger is not as skilled as other's Emily has fought before. Emily smashes her kagune into the woman's face, her head knocking backwards, nose bloodied, a low howl escaping her lips. 

Emily wraps a tentacle around the woman's ankle, yanking roughly. She lifts, letting it squeeze and crush bone until the woman is screaming and dangling in the air. It's a sickening sound, Emily thinks smashing the woman into the pavement. She repeats the gesture over and over until there's a bloodied patch where her face should be, limbs twitching, words garbled and angry.

"N-No!" The voice is unfamiliar to her, which means it must be the man, head turning as her tentacles slowly pull the woman apart. He's charging at Emily from the air, eyes wild with tears and anger. She wonders how much he's lost in the past month.

Emily smirks, ready to counter, ready to smack another fly from the sky until she sees it, a flurry of clouded blue, scales darker than she remembers them being, the hot fire that burns in familiar blackened eyes. 

Chris is soaring through the air after the man, kagune swishing like a broken spine, jagged and Emily stares in awe when the two men collide, the startled expression on the man's face sizzled into her mind, eyes growing wide when Chris' teeth bite into his throat.

Emily gasps, raising a hand to her mouth, horror scraping along her mind. It sounds a lot like nails down a chalkboard, a lot like screaming and she can't stop watching, watching as Chris rips out the man's spine, that deformed, strange kagune digging through the man's stomach as he gurgles and sobs.

"No, no! Kenny!" 

Emily jumps, startled. She completely forgot about the woman, her body mostly regenerated and moving, shoulder cocked back once again, just she's not aiming for Emily but for Chris, Chris who is wearing an expression Emily has only seen once before, when the Doves came for his parents and he tried to defend them. 

Emily blinks, the only word her mind can form is interesting. It repeats over and over until it bleeds into her subconscious. Emily cuts the woman off, sprinting forward, four tentacles raised high and shooting out. The woman struggles, crying desperately as they hold her to the ground.

YoungHa said power came from eating another ghoul. What power? Chris' kagunes were different, he was different. Emily kneels over the woman's chest, watching it heave, blood spreading along the front of her chest. Emily's eyes meet hers.

"P-Please."

They wanted her family. They wanted to take Chris away. Would they come after Jess? Matt? It's a juvenile idea but it hurts to think about, makes her want to vomit. Emily frowns, anger flaring up inside her. They couldn't have them. They couldn't have them. 

"Unacceptable." 

Emily registers every expression, every pained howl and broken, ugly sob but her hands don't stop, prying and pulling at bone and how the blood squelches under her fingernails. 

It's tough, rubbery texture but it melts along her throat when it slides down, soupy and warm, filing away under her skin and it's good, it's so good. Almost human, bitter in taste but there's a fine sweetness, it lingers and grows inside her stomach. Emily imagines this is what 'comfort food' tastes like.

"Em. Em, we gotta go." Chris is shaking her shoulder, voice sounding distant and far away. He wipes her mouth with his sleeve, gingerly smoothing away bits of gore, eyes filled with regret. Emily clasps his hand tightly. She can hear the sirens.

"Why did you do it?" Emily asks. "Why did you eat her?"

Chris pauses, gaze dropping. "It could've been Josh."

Emily understands. "Why did you eat him?"

Chris looks up, eyes meeting hers. "It could've been you."

"Oh," Emily says, unable to find words and her mouth feels sour. She feels sick, the moment passing and she holds Chris' hand tightly. Emily blinks back tears.

"We gotta go, Em."

Chris helps Emily to her feet, not commenting when her legs shake. The sirens are getting closer but Emily barely registers it, glancing back at the woman's body. It does regenerate, kagune ripped from her insides, lying broken and shriveled on the ground.

Jess' apartment is closer so they head there, sticking to the tops of buildings, creeping along generators and outside gardens until Emily taps at Jess' bedroom window. Chris stands close to her, head pressed into Emily's shoulder as he heaves a sigh. Emily reaches down to squeeze his hand.

Jess beams, smiling broadly when she answers the window. Her smile wavers then falls, eyes roaming over their bloodied clothes. She must see something on Emily's face she isn't used to because Jess lets them in without a word, sitting down on her bed as she watches them shed their clothes, Chris letting Emily shower first with guilty expression that makes her sick.

Emily can faintly hear them talking under the spray of the shower, distinct words like attacked and sorry. She almost smiles when she sees her usual bottles of shampoo and conditioner, her name written in a familiar scrawl of peach sharpie. 

Emily works it through her hair, watching the water run red, blackened clots rolling down her legs. She ate a ghoul. It was a strange thought, almost as interesting as Chris eating one but it doesn't hold the same merit. Emily ate a ghoul.

Why?

Emily says family but the back of her mind says power. YoungHa said power, the seed was planted.

Oh.

Emily worries her bottom lip, the chalky texture of wet lipstick dragging along her teeth. She uses Jess' face wash, already cringing at how damn dry her face is going to be but it smells like Jess, like spring, like jasmine in July.

Jess is waiting on her bed when Emily emerges in a towel. Chris whistles, still naked but most of the blood has been wiped away, Jess' nice hand towels stained red. Jess eyes Chris, a humored smile on her face.

"Go take a shower, you're gross." Jess giggles. Chris concedes, hands covering his bits when Emily raises an eyebrow at him. He wiggles past her, cheeks bright red and slams the door closed. Emily turns to Jess, the smile on her girlfriend's face gone. 

"You smell like a ghoul." Jess says.

"We were attacked." 

"Just attacked?" Jess asks, watching Emily pat the water from her skin. Emily nods, unsure of what to say, if she should say anything. She steals a shirt from Jess' closet, tugging on a pair of sweats that smell like Matt.

"Emily." 

"What, Jess?"

Jess fidgets restlessly. She glances down at her knees, toes wiggling. Emily folds her arm across her chest, regarding Jess quietly. She can hear Chris drop a bottle, his low curse following. 

"Em...Never mind." Jess forces a smile. "Are you staying the night?"

"I probably shouldn't." Emily answers and she wished she didn't feel so on edge, so bland and shaky. Jess is staring at her, soft eyes round and pretty and Emily runs a hand down her face.

"We don't have to talk." Jess says, rising to her feet. She walks up to Emily, smooth hands sliding along Emily's skin, folding along her wrist, up, up. Jess touches Emily's elbows, eyes downcast and warm.

"I'm your girl, Em." Jess whispers, hands coming to rest on Emily's shoulders. "We don't have to talk about anything. Just.. stay."

"Ok," it comes out like a sigh, Emily's arms moving to slide around Jess torso. She holds her close, listens to the tick tick of her heart and breathes.

"I'm glad you and Chris are alright."

"Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next episode: Meet the parents


	6. Burrowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris will eventually have a good day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of gore and scarring

Chris sits at the computer lab desk, bored, his phone games bare and tedious, head hanging between his shoulders as he tries not to sleep. There's a woman typing in the corner, murmuring out quick phrases in mandarin, a bowl of egg scramble situated in front of her. Chris thought about saying no food allowed but he's tired and lazy and the only reason he's here is because he owes Jess.

"Sleeping on the job, Chrissy? Unprofessional." 

Chris startles at the sound of Ashley's voice, her high giggle trailing afterward and he straightens, wiping at his face roughly. Chris fights back a yawn, stretching in his seat as Ashley saddles up to the desk, a glasses case in hand.

"Here you go. Special delivery." Ashley smiles, pushing the case into Chris' outstretched hand.

"You're a lifesaver, Ash. Thank you." Chris pops it open, his glasses folded neatly inside, mended and normal. 

"Emily must've punched you really hard. They were pretty broken." Ashley comments, leaning against the desk, arms folded underneath her. "What were you guys fighting about?"

"Just sibling stuff." 

Chris slips his glasses onto his face, blinking out of habit because honestly he didn't need them, the clarity still crisp and clear. Ashley regards him closely, pouty, pink glossed lips pursing.

"Sibling stuff?" She doesn't sound like she believes him, eyes narrowing slightly, questioning. Chris hadn't talked to anyone about what happened aside from Emily, who was there, and even she didn't want to talk about it. He skimmed Predator's Anonymous to see if anyone had concerns but the ghoul community remained quiet and unaware.

"You know how Em is. She doesn't get what she wants, she gets mad." It wasn't true, at least hasn't been for two years but Ashley hasn't known Emily very long and preying on how little she likes her seems to be the way to go because Ashley rolls her eyes, a long "ohmygodchrisyes" hurrying out her mouth.

"Just one of those." 

Ashley nods. "She's such a bitch sometimes."

"Yeah." Chris agrees weakly. 

"Anyway," Ashley taps her fingers against the desk. "Mike told me that you have a boyfriend."

Chris groans, head falling back. "Mike needs to keep his mouth shut. All the time. Every time. Until I die."

"So it's true then." Ashley grins, hopping up on the desk. She crosses her legs, leaning back on her hands, grin widening. "How cute. Is he cute?"

"You have class with him apparently." Chris tells her. "I think it's...? Um, class with flash fictions?"

Josh didn't talk about Ashley, ever, but he had flipped through Chris' Instagram, pointing out every person he recognized. Ashley was one of them.

"Creative Writing?" 

"That!" Chris says excitedly. It doesn't last long, Ashley staring at him like he's the most stupid thing she's ever encountered in her life and he thinks, maybe, if Emily and Ashley got passed this thing they're going through, they could be really, really great friends.

"Jesus, Chris." Ashley sighs. "Okay? There's, like, twenty people in my class."

"Josh Washington." Chris informs her. 

Ashley's head snaps to him, eyes blown wide, mouth falling open and there's something there, some awful suspicion that makes Chris' insides turn. She swallows audibly, a weak smile on her face.

"You guys know each other long?" Ashley inquires, eyebrows furrowing. 

Chris shrugs, unsure how to take this shift in attitude. He tries to think of where the conversation went wrong. Josh and Ashley had the same class, they both knew Chris, Chris had met Josh through Matt, Josh gave Chris his number, they had date plans. 

Chris tenses up, schooling his face as quickly as the thought surfaces. No one knew who the human was who survived the ghoul attack, the CCG came in too fast for anyone to get information, but Josh still went to school that week. He had class with Ashley. Ashley wasn't stupid.

Fuck. Fucking fuck.

Ashley licks her lips. "You know, he got mugged, like, a month ago. It was pretty bad."

"I heard. I checked up on him the next day. We were supposed to go on a date." Chris tries to keep his voice level, his heart rate even but he's never been good at lying like how Emily is, or Mike. Ashley doesn't say anything for a moment, tucking locks of red, red hair behind her ear. She turns away, hands rested on her knees.

"That's nice of you, Chris." Ashley says quietly. "Did you hear about the ghoul attack last month too? Coincidentally, the mugging happened when the ghoul attack did. I don't know if you read my blog but there have been concerns about it. I mean, how crazy is that, a ghoul eating other ghouls."

Ashley looks at him as she says it, scanning his expression, searching, hunting and Chris nods, slowly. She reaches out to touch his shoulder, squeezes it harder than usual and pulls away, slipping to the floor. It feels like a warning, makes his heart stutter and his jaw lock up.

"Be careful, Chris." Ashley says, her expression hard. "The Doves are in town."

"Yeah, you too." Chris watches Ashley leave, shoulders wound up tight and there's an itch under his skin, writhing and twitchy and he's trying not to panic. They were friends and Ashley liked him way more than she liked Emily but what did that mean if she found out her suspicions were real? 

"Shit." Chris breathes. He texts Emily.

From: Child  
I think Ashley knows  
About me

It takes her a moment.

From: Ice Queen  
????  
You're going to have to be specific 

From: Child  
The ghoul, Em jfc

Emily calls. Chris glances at the woman in the corner, watching her laugh quietly at the screen. He answers.

"Spill." Emily says, her voice tired and there's a yawn.

"Were you sleeping? You sleep? That's crazy."

Emily clicks her tongue. "Christopher, I swear to fucking-"

"Okay, okay. Sorry." Chris amends. "Mike told her I had a boyfriend. I told her who it was."

"Okay? So?"

"Josh and Ashley have class together, Em."

Emily doesn't say anything, the shuffle of sheets static against the receiver. Chris can hear Jess' tired murmur, Emily's soft "go back to sleep" then the click of the door shutting. 

"What did she say?"

"She asked me if I knew that he got mugged. If I knew about the ghoul attack."

Emily sighs heavily. "God.."

"Is she... Is she going to do anything?" Chris asks, glancing around the room. He stares absently at a poster, noting it's tacky comic sans font. 

"She won't." Emily says. She sounds confident. It quells some of the nervous energy pooling in Chris' guy.

"But.. The thing with Jess-"

"Ashley's an idiot, but she likes you." Emily says quickly. "She'll probably dig around, see what's what and she might, might talk to you about it. But.. I don't think she'd do anything, Chris, and if she did.."

Emily doesn't continue, lets her words float around in Chris' head, the unspoken threat, that familiar tone. Chris wants to tell Emily that he can handle it himself but he knows, knows if he did she'd say, why did you call then. 

It makes him feel cowardly, useless, hiding behind Emily's burning aura and watching as she took everything down in front of her. She's been taking care of him for a while, too long. Chris wants to say that the other day, the second time he's consumed another ghoul is the first time he's ever been able to match Emily's fire with his own.

Chris tries not to think about it, the taste still resting heavy in the back of his throat. 

"I can hear you thinking." Emily snorts. 

"Sorry." Chris pinches the bridge of his nose.

"It's fine. We'll be fine." Emily tells him. "I got your back."

"The Spider protecting her kin."

"Jesus, please don't ever say that again. I'm hanging up." But he can hear the laugh in her voice, the way her tone rises just a bit higher. "Bye, bitch."

"Later." Chris chuckles, waiting for the click of the line before setting his phone on the desk. He feels better, a little less worried, a little less like he wants to throw up. Chris texts Matt through rest of his shift, tossing various emoticons until Matt texts him: pls stop god. 

Josh doesn't text him, Chris doesn't text Josh. He wasn't exactly sure what their relationship was beyond the badly 'I wished it was a dream' situation Chris found himself in or the frequent late night visits that usually involved Josh on top of him, bathed in the light from the street lamps, with Josh's hand wrapped around Chris' dick, two slow pumps and Josh would milk him dry, a lovely sigh whispered in Chris' ear after that tastes like come and he'd get to see what Josh looks like picked apart, a hand braced on Chris' shoulders as he fucks up into his fist. It's a pretty picture, watching tan skin flush red, watching expressive eyes grow dark and heavy.

Chris tries not to think about it. Emily mentioned recently that he'd been "glowing", whatever the fuck that meant, but Chris thinks it's mostly because he's getting laid and mostly because Josh is really, really good company. 

"Chris, you can leave. I'm late." Chris' relief, Demetri, calls, wedging himself between the desk, thick coarse dark hair spilling down his shoulders. He gives Chris a small smile before urging him out of his designated seat.

"You guys need to stop manhandling me." Chris whines, nearly tripping over his own feet trying to get out from the small space. Demetri flaps his hand, grinning widely.

"It's why you enjoy working with me, cuz."

"Yeah, yeah." Chris dismisses, grasping his book bag from a compartment behind him. "Some Macs came in. You should fix 'em."

"Or," Demetri drags the word. "We could let Jess fix them."

"Good plan, man."

They high fave, wide grins mirroring one another, Demetri turning away to plug his phone into the nearest socket.

"Oh! Chris, come to this party we're having this weekend. Er, I'm having. Jackie doesn't know yet."

"Your roommate is going to kill you."

Demetri coughs, "Probably. Be there or be," He makes a square shape with his index fingers, winking dramatically. Chris chuckles lightly, says he'll think about, shouldering his bag. 

Chris mock salutes, heading for the exit. He passes a few students he recognizes as regulars during the graveyard shift. Chris has only worked it twice, each time because Demetri decided life was worth living, and Chris hated it both times. 

The courtyard is scarcely populated, a couple of students sitting at stone tables, bent over thick textbooks, pencils jotting down sloppy notes. A couple of young men toss a football back and forth, sweat beading along their foreheads.

His father once said that cohabitation would be possible, that humans would be accepting of ghouls in society, but Chris wonders if the man diving to catch the football would feel the same towards the friend he's playing with if he knew that he was a man eater. It's an Emily way of thinking, a constant fear Chris has always had, being discovered, being feared.

Chris swings by Matt's apartment, mostly because there's an 80% chance Matt is actually home, mostly because he wants to see Josh. He knocks on the door, tap t-tap his father taught him. Two meant safe, one meant run, use the backdoor, more than three meant someone else, a neighbor, the mailman with a package, check the peephole. Chris has only heard his dad use one knock once and it was the last time he'd heard it.

Josh answers the door, eyes tired, neck exposed, revealing fading reddish burgundy bruises. He's in a pair of knit leggings, sweater baggy on his tiny frame. Chris sniffs. It smells like Sam. Josh's face brightens, a smile sliding onto his face.

"Hey, wasn't expecting you to drop by."

"Figured I'd bother Matt for a bit."

Josh's smile falters, "'s that the only reason?"

"Probably not." Chris agrees, nose twitching as an unfamiliar scent floats out from Josh's apartment. "Someone with you?"

"Just my dad. Wanna meet him?"

Chris considers saying no, it wasn't a good idea because it wasn't. He didn't do parents, wasn't good with people over 30 but that mostly had to do with Patrick and other members of the Petty Goats Chris never wanted to encounter again. 

"Just one meeting, Cochise." Josh hums, reaching for Chris' hand. He tugs once, twice, grip light and pleasant and Chris sighs, allowing himself to be pulled inside. 

Josh leads him down the short hallway, hand still folded around Chris'. His dad sits in Matt's recliner, legs propped up on the coffee table, scribbling in a thin black notebook. He looks up at the sound of them entering the living room, a wrinkled smile on his face. 

Josh's dad looks a lot like Josh, jaw a bit sharper, bit more angular but his eyes are Josh's, soft and expressive pools. He rises to his feet, tucking his notebook into the back pocket of his jeans and holds out a hand to Chris.

"Bob Washington." There's a hint of recognition in his eyes, some old memory stirring underneath.

"Chris Cohen." Chris grasps it firmly, one shake, taking in the casual grandpa attire Bob wears. It's mostly knit, white strands of cat hair sticking out from the sweater, slacks loose and cotton. Josh squeezes Chris' hand before he lets go, walking towards the couch. He plops down.

"Josh has told me a lot about you. You work with computers? Fascinating stuff, my guy." Bob beams, gesturing for Chris to sit on the couch. Chris does so stiffly, hands on his knees, nervously watching Bob return to the recliner. He doesn't put his legs up, leans against his knees, eyes wide and curious.

"You said your last name was Cohen?"

Chris nods.

Bob sits back in his seat, tapping his chin ponderously. He lifts up slightly, taking the little black notebook out. Chris glances back at Josh, who is curled up against the arm of the couch, yawning into his elbow. Bob flips through pages, eyes squinting slightly. Josh clears his throat. Bob glances up. Josh gestures to his forehead, tapping lightly.

Bob lifts his hands, feeling the glasses that rest there. "Ah, thank you."

"Sure." Josh yawns tiredly. 

"Here we go." Bob grins, glasses on the tip of his nose. He hands the book to Chris. Bob waits patiently, noticing Chris' hesitance on taking it. Chris holds the tiny book in one hand, a sketch drawn on lined pages. His insides twist uncomfortably, reading his last name in the upper corner, followed by Elise and Don. 

The sketches are detailed, his mother's smiling face peering up from the page, her rinkaku, Chris' father drawn beside her, expression gentle and fond as he stares at her, his koukaku wrapped around his arm.

A hand touches Chris' leg, startling him slightly, Josh pressing into his space to stare curiously down at the page. He tenses up, mouth pursed as he turns to his father, who smiles pleasantly.

"Cohen isn't a popular name." Bob explains. "I've met three in my whole life, a husband, a wife and their son."

"Dad-"

Bob's eyes narrows. "I imagine that you hold similar morals that your parents did, otherwise my son would be dead, yes?" He's speaking to Chris, holding up a hand to Josh. Chris swallows thickly, nervous energy crawling under his skin. He forces himself to nod. Bob smiles, face softening. He reaches for the book, Chris hands it back.

"That's good. I've been worried." Bob sighs, sitting back. He stares at the page. "Marvelous people. They helped me out of a very bad situation with other ghouls." Bob glances at Josh, "I wouldn't tell your mother though." 

"I wasn't planning on telling you." Josh mutters, slouching back on the couch, arms folded across his chest. 

"Mm, yes I can see why." Bob chuckles, snapping the book closed. "I was sad to hear of their passing. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks," Chris replies, unsure of what really to say. His parents have been dead for a while now. They had never mentioned having human friends or acquaintances but maybe Chris just didn't know his parents very well, too young, too caught up in a sixteen year old bullshit to notice anything.

"Please don't be nervous. I meant no harm." Bob says, voice apologetic. 

Chris forces himself to relax, nails digging into the tops of his knees. Josh places a hand on the small of Chris' back, fingers dancing along his spine. Bob grins widely.

"Glad we didn't invite you to dinner. That was the original plan." Bob tells Chris. "Joshua fails to mention little details, for good reason of course, and he does love talking about you."

Josh groans. "Please. Stop." 

"Yes, yes. I understand, princess." Josh rolls his eyes at that, a small smile on his face. 

Bob stays a while longer, asking Chris questions about what's happening in the east side, if it's dangerous. Chris answers as best he can, completely ignorant to what else is happening beyond the Petty Goats being in town and Patrick kidnapping humans. Bob seems fascinated by all this, says he's going to use it for inspiration and Chris wants to ask how exactly the man met Chris' parents. He feels like Bob wouldn't tell him and judging by the aloof personality Bob Washington is forcing out, Chris guesses it's not something he'd want to know.

"See ya Monday, kiddo." Bob tells Josh, both standing in the foyer. He pulls Josh into a tight hug, Josh hesitating briefly before sliding his arms around Bob's torso. Chris turns away, feeling as though he's stepped in on something awfully private. He tries to think of the last time he hugged his own father before he died, Chris can't find a memory.

The front door clicks closed.

"That was exhausting." Josh sighs, wandering into the kitchen, tab cutting on as water is filled into a glass. Chris lifts up from his seat, stretching, bones popping along the silence.

Chris pads over the the kitchen, leaning against the breakfast bar, watching Josh's throat work down a tall glass of water, an opened prescription bottle sitting on the counter. Josh sets the glass down.

"Probably the best parent meeting I've ever had."

Josh smiles. "You meet a lot of people's parents, Cochise? I'm jealous."

Chris straightens, tapping his fingers along the counter as he rounds the breakfast bar, stepping up into Josh's space, eyes locked on freckled red bruises that decorate the other's neck. Chris lightly touches them, pads of fingers smoothing along the colors, and Josh tilts his head slightly, skin warm and soft. 

"I'm glad it went okay."

Chris meets Josh's gaze. "This mean I'm your boyfriend?"

"If you want it to mean that." Josh answers simply, a coy smile on his face. "Or not. You don't have to be my boyfriend to keep fucking me."

"I wasn't trying to say that." Chris frowns. "The Parent thing. I wasn't expecting it." Chris sighs, taking his hand away. He steps back, leaning against the adjacent counter, arms folded across his chest.

"Yeah, me either." Josh nods and there's hesitation there, hesitation and a nervous energy that makes Chris' heart speed up. Chris exhales through his nose, mouth twisting to one side. 

"Your dad's nice."

Josh glances at him. "Yeah, he's been like that since my sisters went missing."

"You wanna talk... about it?" Chris inquires, nearly sighing at the crestfallen look that flutters across Josh's face makes Chris' insides turn and twist. Josh bites his bottom lip, clearing his throat, scratching the back of his neck. It's endearing to watch, burns Chris' skin up.

"No." Josh answers.

"That's okay too."

Josh lips twitch into a smile. "You're a weird guy. I don't think I've ever met anyone this..." Josh flaps his hand. "Understanding. Or maybe you're not, maybe you just don't want to push it. This thing we have going. Can't get invested with an idea right?"

Chris doesn't understand what Josh is talking about, what he's insinuating but it mostly seems like he thinks Chris doesn't care enough to push the subject.

"It's not right for me to force you to talk about anything, Josh."

"Yeah," Josh agrees. "Wanna tell me how your parents died?"

"Nah." Chris smiles. Josh chuckles.

"Match made in heaven. I almost invited you to get Italian with us but then I remembered." Josh says absently.

"Garlic is a vampire's worst enemy."

Josh cringes, "That's the worst thing you've ever said. Please don't make vampire jokes."

"I vant to suck your blood." Chris chortles thickly, voice throaty and dramatic, fingers wiggling as he lifts his arms, and Josh laughs at it, tension leaving his shoulders, his face, sliding out with a slow inhale. Josh flicks his wrist, gesturing Chris over. 

"You wanna do a bit more than that?" 

Chris closes the distance between them, crossing the kitchen in one, two steps that have never felt so easy to make. Chris vaguely registers the smug look on Josh's face, gazing on the part in Josh's lips, slow and easy and Chris kisses him.

This is a bit different, a little more Josh clinging to Chris as he pushes Josh's leggings down, a little more soft pants when Chris presses Josh into the counter, hand in his sweater, teeth marring up skin and Josh grasps a fistful of Chris' hair, moaning deep in his throat when Chris dips his hand under the waistband of Josh's briefs.

Josh's head bumps his shoulder, groaning weakly and he's easing Chris' hand away, an embarrassed look on his face. "We should do this not here."

"Or, hear me out, we could do it here." Chris suggests, nudging Josh's head with his own. Josh shakes his head, smiling, but he lets Chris kiss him a few more times. 

"Yeah, yeah we could do that." Josh agrees, wrapping his arms around Chris' neck. "Yeah. We could do that." 

"That's what I'm talkin' about." Chris takes the end of Josh's sweater, lifting it up slowly with one hand, the other grasping bony hips.

"You better not be fucking." Matt's voice startles them both, Josh's entire body clamping up, jaw tensing and bites Chris' tongue, hard. Chris winces, blood filling his mouth, metallic warmth coating his tongue. 

"Oh shit, Chris, I'm sorry." Josh panics, grasping Chris' jaw, eyes wide as he tries to asses the damage. Chris waves him away, face scrunched up and Matt stares at them with one cocked eyebrow.

"Josh, we talked about this." Matt huffs. "Kitchen is off limits."

"It's Chris' fault." Josh responds, tugging his leggings up. 

"It's my fault." Chris agrees, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Matt's eyebrow only seems to grow higher and higher until his expression relaxes, a sigh escaping his lips. He sets his book bag on the table, slumping down in a chair.

"I'm surrounded by animals. I don't know whose worse. You, Jess or Mike."

Josh snickers. "Probably Jess."

Chris and Matt share a look. Matt shrugs, seeming to agree. "Yeah, okay. Chris, kitchen is off limits. I eat in there. Fuck somewhere else."

"Yes sir." 

"Plus counters hurt." Matt adds.

Josh side eyes him. "Matt is just tired of getting pounded against things that aren't his bed." He whispers to Chris. 

Matt glares weakly at him. "You're all assholes. I hate all of you."

"Are you two even dating?" Chris inquires, enjoying seeing the usual smug look on Matt's face diminish into a quiet blush. 

"Kind of." 

Chris raises an eyebrow at him. 

"God, I'm going to my room." Matt grumbles, forcing himself out of his seat. He storms away, running a hand over his face and pushes his bedroom door open just as Mike is climbing through the bedroom window. Matt slams the door closed when Chris and Josh start laughing. 

"Come over?" Chris asks.

"Yeah okay." Josh smiles. "Probably for the best. Believe it or not, Matt's really, really loud."

Chris could've lived without that information. He follows Josh to his bedroom, leaning against the doorframe as the other bustles around the cluttered room. There were clothes on the floor, beanies strewn about, bed messy and unmade but Josh kept his closet clean, the floor clear. Chris asked him once if there was a specific reason, Josh simply shrugged so Chris didn't bring it up again.

"We can watch your dumb anime bullshit tonight if you want." Josh mentions, shouldering his book bag.

"You love Parasyte."

"I like you." Josh quips, grasping Chris by the collar. He tugs lightly, pressing a kiss to Chris' mouth. Chris grabs Josh's forearms, leaning back in when Josh pulls away. 

Matt's closed door thumps, a suggestive noise Chris isn't about to decipher coming from it. Josh chuckles. "We should go."

"Yep." Chris agrees. 

"Did you want to try it?" Josh asks once they're out of the apartment, punching the down arrow for the elevator. He turns to Chris, worrying his bottom lip nervously.

"Try what?"

"Being my boyfriend." Josh states.

The elevator door dings open, Josh heads inside, turning to face Chris, hand curled along the strap of his book bag, gaze soft and expectant. Chris isn't sure what to say, isn't a hundred percent in what he wants from this but he knows he likes Josh, likes how he feels and talks, the raspy way he sounds in the mornings.

Josh's eyes flicker away. "Just think on it, Cochise."

Chris steps into the elevator, pushing the button for the lobby. He doesn't grab Josh's hand, but their fingers brush as they wait, as they walk, skin barely whispering against skin. It feels a bit awkward, or maybe Chris just feels that way because Josh still rambles at the mouth about various topics, throwing words around Chris doesn't fully recognize. He wishes he had an answer, it'd be easy to say yes, forget about how shit this past week has been and how jittery he's been feeling.

"Jack called. The Hound or whatever, you and Matt call him. But he called." Josh informs Chris as they walk. Chris stiffens beside him, turning to Josh, waiting for the other to continue.

"He said he had some information on the ghoul who attacked me. The woman. Said her name was Callie and she worked at a nursing home." Josh shrugs. "I don't know why he called. He's under the impression that I'm being hunted or something. Because of my sisters."

"What does that mean?" Chris asks quickly. "Your sisters are missing right?"

Josh nods. "He doesn't seem to think so. Mentioned those Farm people. What is it? Goats? Cows? Whatever, dude talks fucking fast okay." Josh huffs. "He said he's got this theory and he's looking into because of my mom."

Chris heckles, unsure of what to make of all this. He hates the feeling, the paranoia, the constant nag of wondering if he can actually trust Josh.

"You okay, man?" Josh inquires, grasping Chris' wrist. He pauses on the sidewalk, mouth wrinkled with worry. Chris studies him closely, searching, nostrils flared and he wants to ask how the fuck Josh's parents are connected with his parents and the CCG. Chris wants to trust Josh, has too. If not.. Emily... Jess..

"How does your mom know him?"

Josh shrugs. "I have no idea." 

It doesn't seem like a lie, Josh holding his gaze the entire time. Chris forces out a sigh. He couldn't start doubting now.

"I killed another ghoul." Chris tells him.

Josh tenses up, dropping his hand. "When? Was... there a reason?"

"Yeah." 

"Okay. Is this bad? Did you..." Josh doesn't finish, staring down at his shoes. Chris knows what he wants to ask. Did you eat them? Rip open skin until the bone shows, white stained red, murky insides that taste a lot like rotting fruit. 

"Yeah." Chris answers. 

"Okay." Josh says. "... I'm sure you had a good reason, Chris."

"I did." He didn't, not really, when Emily's been able to take care of them for years, alone, up against the world as it clashed around them. Chris didn't have a good reason for eating another ghoul, just felt the power of their essence fading as he swallowed red bits and pieces, the overwhelming need to protect his own resting heavily in his chest.

It makes him anxious, makes him feel more monstrous than he is and Emily ate another ghoul too. He doesn't know why, doesn't want to know, but she held his hand most of the way back and it felt like a promise, felt a lot like family.

"Then," Josh forces a smile. "It's okay."

"Is it?" Chris asks, dragging his eyes up to meet Josh's. He watches the smile falter, dwindle and fall and Josh stares down at his feet. 

"It's gotta be, Cochise." Josh whispers.

A few people pass them on the sidewalk, glancing back when neither Chris nor Josh move. Chris stares at Josh, Josh staring at the concrete. The air is colder, still and it smells like fall melting into winter. Chris shrugs off one of his jackets, draping it around Josh's shoulders when he notices the slight shiver. 

"Thanks, Cochise."

"It's fine." Chris dismisses.

Josh smiles up at him, lightly pulling at their joined hands, leading the way to Chris' apartment. Chris smells it then, again, that precarious whiff of a half ghoul, human, something. He glances at the tops of buildings they pass, barely catching the glittery blackened wing before it disappears.

Chris still didn't know who it was, what it was but it followed Josh around, to campus, to Matt's apartment, never staying once Chris manages to spot it. He didn't know if it was malicious or friendly but it watched Josh, stayed a quiet distance away and watched. Chris stares down at Josh's scarred wrist, the dangling beaded bracelet that rests against his skin.

"Has anyone ever told you that you think really loud?" Josh turns back to him, smiling. "It's cute. How much you think. Like your mind has its own combination of noises it doesn't know it's making."

"Em's said something like that."

"You'll get wrinkles." Josh tells him.

"Good thing you like me right?"

Josh chuckles softly. "True facts, man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Episode: Emily meets Billy Bates along with other fantastic beasts and where to find them


	7. Party Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily might be perfect but she's got some issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: some heavy making out, probably a nip slip, mild gore, angst, Mike becomes a punching bag

Emily's met Billy Bates once, when they first moved to southern Philly, Chris three months past his last meal so bent on not eating another human being Emily almost knocked the shit out of him. Jess had an alternative way to aid the situation, one that didn't involve Chris healing a broken jaw or Emily with busted knuckles. Jess trusted Billy, which meant Emily should too.

She doesn't.

"A moment?" Billy asks, one arm folded over his abdomen, smile worn and wrinkled. Jess glances at Emily, Emily rolls her eyes and nods. Jess pats her lightly on the shoulder, approval ringing in her face as she continues down the hall.

They watch her go, waiting for the click of one of the doors before they face one another, Emily's mask of indifference melting into a scowl. Billy's smile falls.

"How is she?"

"She's fine." Emily answers curtly. She wants to say spoiled and bratty but she doesn't, biting the inside of her cheek as Billy nods, once then twice.

"Has Patrick been to see you?"

"No." Emily crosses her arms. She considers telling him about Young Ha but she doesn't like the evident curiosity in his face, the blatant desire to hear the answer. 

It wasn't common knowledge that Chris and Emily spent some time with Patrick and the Petty Goats when they were younger but those who did know seemed to always be surprised.

Emily knows why, has seen Patrick's basement.

"Ah, I see." Billy replies, eyes darting away. His gaze lingers on the door Jess went into. Emily bristles, skin prickling up in annoyance. Billy must sense her change in demeanor because he's turning back, expression apologetic and amused, hands raised in surrender.

"I'll leave you to it."

Emily doesn't respond, watches him head down the hall until he disappears behind a corner. She forces herself to relax, shoulders protesting as she stalks back towards the waiting room.

Jess beams when Emily comes through the door.

"Bonding time with the elderly? Didn't think you had it in you, Em." Jess smirks, watching Emily sit down across from her.

"He's creepy." Emily comments, ignoring Jess' pointed stare.

Jess rolls her eyes, a pink smile spreading across her mouth, one leg folded over the other, foot tapping lightly to the heavy base pounding beneath them. Emily didn't quite understand what it was with ghouls in the city that wanted to open their business to the human population. 

"He's nice."

Emily thinks that if she was base all her assumptions, her life, on the idea of someone being pleasant to her, she'd be dead. Patrick was nice, was pleasant, until you dug underneath the façade and saw the real reason he managed to become the leader of four insane ghouls. 

Emily knows realistically YoungHa was the least of their problems when it came to the Goats, too easily amused, too easily ready to wait out a bad situation just to see what happens. Pixie was a problem, Kiaan was a problem, Émelia was a problem. Emily hadn't even considered the other members, hadn't considered Patrick and his sick gang of art freaks driving down into Philadelphia but here they were.

A knock comes to the door, two quick taps that remind Emily of Don Cohen. It's not him that comes through the door, three years past dead, instead it's Billy, an old wrinkled smile brightening up his hollow face, head bald and smooth. Emily thinks he looks like a skeleton, Chris did too. She raised him well.

"I apologize for the wait." Billy tips his head slightly, a neatly wrapped meat package in one hand. "I didn't I'd ever see you here, Emily. I've heard word of your work throughout the city."

He sounds like Patrick. Emily doesn't respond, folding her arms across her chest as she stares at him, cold and steely. Billy chuckles deeply, Jess clicking her tongue.

"Jessica, your order." Billy says pleasantly, walking over to them. He sets the package on the coffee table between them, eyes hooded and low as he backs away, hands tucked behind his back. 

"Thank you, Bill. You always know how to treat a girl right." Jess winks, Emily rolling her eyes so hard she's afraid she sprained something.

Another deep chuckle, "It's my pleasure. I'll leave you to it."

Emily watches him go, shoulders pinched tight together, eyes narrowing with each passing second. She doesn't relax until his footsteps fade, blending and melting into the noise of the jazz bar downstairs. Emily turns back to Jess, who is plucking twine from the package, expression soft and hungry.

"Did you want some?"

"No." Emily answers curtly, ignoring the curious glance Jess sends her. It's how most of their conversations have gone the past week, since Chris ate that ghoul, since Emily at a ghoul. She didn't know how to broach the subject, didn't want to but she knows, knows each time Jess glances at her there's a question, a suspicion, something Emily doesn't want to acknowledge. 

Emily's only treaded carefully twice in her life, when the Doves first set up shop down the street from where her parents lived and when Chris and her shared a room in Patrick's apartment, hearing every creak of floorboard, every pained howl that came from the basement downstairs, Chris wrapped tight around her, eyes squeezed closed.

Emily shouldn't be able to compare not talking to her girlfriend to such bad situations but she finds herself doing it. It feels a lot like cowardice, a lot like fear and Jess knows, senses something wrong, hasn't looked at her the same since Emily climbed through her bedroom window, bloodied, with Chris right behind her.

"Do you not trust me?" 

Emily turns to Jess, unraveling the scarf from around her neck, eyes locked on how tight Jess' fists are balled at her sides. The walk home had been quiet, painfully so, each step similar to a nail in the coffin, quietly hammering away, waiting.

"I do, Jess."

Jess looks at her. "Then why won't you tell me what happened that day? With Chris. I'm your family too, Emily. Or is it only convenient when you're feeling sorry for yourself? Matt knows. I know he does because you tell Matt everything, unlike me, your girlfriend."

Emily could tell Matt anything because he's easy to talk to, easy to drown into when everything is overwhelming and Matt wasn't a ghoul, wasn't a monster but he had the mentality of one, underneath that soft shell was someone who killed for her. Matt wasn't Jess and if he was, maybe, maybe Emily would care what he thought of her, how he felt about her but it's been two years since they dated and Emily knows Matt would die for her.

She doesn't know if Jess would, hasn't seen that frazzled panic in her eyes, and Emily doesn't know if she'd want Jess to sacrifice anything for her. But Emily would do it for her in a heartbeat, has before when Ashley became a little too cocky, a little to smug and Chris had to drag Emily from Ashley's broken, dismembered body because she wanted to hurt her girlfriend.

But Emily knows Jess knows, what she did that night, what Chris did that night. 

"Jess-"

"What's the deal then? What's your deal?"

Emily stands there, staring at the growing frown, the furrowed brows and all she wants to is make Jess smile, make that awful, helpless expression disappear. It feels like there's a brick lodged in her throat, sharp and jagged, scraping down into her lungs, like shrapnel.

"Em-"

"I have to go." Emily says curtly.

Jess' expression crumples, arms coming to wrap around her torso, grey eyes dimming and she nods, slow and heavy. "Ok."

Emily leaves her scarf behind, takes the stairs instead of the elevator, thoughts filtering through piles and piles of hazed sludge. She's on the street before she realizes, voices knocking around in the air, smiling faces of people blurring by as she walks.

Emily thinks about calling Chris, thinks about turning around and apologizing, making up a lie but Jess would know, she always knows. It's something Emily's always hated about her, that intuition that's been following Jess around since middle school. 

Mike calls, right on time, as if sensing the weight in the air, how it shifts, twisting.

"Em! I'm starving. Let's go out." Mike chatters happily, voice breathless and raspy.

"Yeah, okay." Emily huffs. No comment on how this is his third time going out, going hunting and Emily knows Mike's always been a bit greedy, a bit much in his binge eating.

A pause. "You okay?"

"The Lot. 10 minutes."

"Yes ma'am." Mike chuckles.

Emily hangs up, heels clicking along the sidewalk as she hurries past the few people walking in front of her. There's an ache burning inside her, something that feels an awful similar to a sinking nervous thought. 

Emily's used to punching her way out of situations she doesn't like, used to bottling up frustration until the perfect moment came and she'd toss herself at it, at them, no matter how strong, how resilient and Mike's the perfect target.

The Lot is a filthy pile of garbage near the train station, once a petition went around from house to house to get it cleaned up and changed into something a bit more constructive. After a body was found there, people forgot about wanting to make it pretty.

Mike's leaning against the gate, eyes hesitant when they flicker up to Emily but he smiles, understanding.

"It's been a minute since you've wanted to kick my ass."

"Probably because we aren't dating and you stopped trying to fuck my girlfriend." Emily comments, moving past him and down the makeshift path cutting through piles of trash.

"Wasn't your girlfriend at the time." Mike reminds her. "No matter how weirdly possessive you are of her. Kinda makes me jealous, don't think you ever looked at me the same way you look at her."

He's right, Emily hadn't. Mike was eye candy, the hook around the arm, that winning sharp smile and the humans didn't know what he was capable of but the ghouls did.

"Sounds like you're bitching, Michael."

Mike faux pouts. "I'm wounded."

Emily spins to face him, fingers flexing at her sides as she stares at him, skin tearing open at the waist as her kagune sprouts out. Mike whistles, eyebrows raised and he steps to the side, shrugging off his jacket. He sets it on a patch of dirty packaged goods, rolling his shoulders, eyes blackening, fiery red veins sprouting from his eyes.

Emily's heel drags along the dirt, watching as a blackened, scaly mass slides out from his lower back, pointed at the end like a lizard's tail. She waits, listens to his slight inhale, the twitch in his right eye and-

Emily steps aside, narrowly dodging a fast swing, gaze meeting Mike's humored one as he zooms past her, slowed by two, tail wriggling through the air and Emily grinds her heel into the dirt, tentacle swiping through the air as it slams into Mike's side.

He catches it, just barely, hands cut up and bloodied as he staggers back, tail curled along the filthy ground like a cat. It reminds Emily vaguely of Ashley, just Mike had one tail opposed to four. Ashley's fit her though, sly as a fox, dangerous.

"You're miffed, Em."

"Shut up." Emily snaps, charging at him, kagune writhing at her sides. She teeters forward, the toe of her heel digging into the ground, air twisting as its forced to move, silver, pincher mouth tentacles smacking into Mike repeatedly. 

Mike blocks some, misses others, kagune shielding most of the attacks, glistened black scales shining brightly. He grunts, left leg planted firm against the ground, tail sliding around one of Emily's tentacles, lifting and twisting and she curses loudly, eyes narrowing dangerously as he lifts her into the air before slamming her back down. 

Emily catches her fall, face inches from the ground, breathing heavy and thick, tips of her kagune pivoting her from the ground. Mike chuckles breathlessly behind her, this raspy, uncoordinated noise.

"Jesus, that almost never happens!" Mike remarks. "You're distracted, Em. It's not good." 

"Shut up, Munroe." Emily snarks, twisting up, two tentacles sinking deeper into the ground as she leans back. Mike's eyebrows lift, mouth flopping open, eyes wide when Emily's kagune grows longer, armored conjoined ligaments sprouting from her waist.

Oh.

"You have eight?!" Mike shouts, scandalized. "That's bullshit! And cheating."

"You agreed to this." Emily comments and then she's moving, Mike scrambling for his defenses, arms coming up to protect his face. She breaks through, his tail, his loose, weak attempt at defense, the squelch of his insides coating two of her tentacles as she digs through his stomach.

Mike coughs red, teeth grinding together until they break, eyes darting between Emily's impassive face and the the two kagunes sifting through his intensities.

"F-Fuck, fucking f-f-fruit cakes," Mike whines. "You're going to kill me, y-you gotta s-s-stop, Em."

Emily agrees, mind blanking as she watches his small intestine spill out onto the ground. She's gone too far, the armored limbs she's created too new, too similar to accepting the nature of what she's done. 

Emily takes a step back, then another, eyes hooded and heavy as she watches Mike scrape his organs into his arms and try to shove them in his body, knees buckling and he sinks to the ground, breathing hard and labored.

"I'm sorry." Emily says quietly.

"Never playing this game again." Mike bitches. "Think you scared my body into shock."

Emily raises an eyebrow at him. "At least you can grow back. Like a damn lizard."

Mike glances up her, eyes blood shot, a weak smile slipping onto his face. "Think I deserve a story, now."

"What?"

"You haven't done this in a while, Em. What's got your mind bothered? Is it Jess?"

Emily shrugs, folding her arms across her chest, kagune slithering back inside. Mike studies her closely.

"Have you ever thought," Mike starts, words slurred and bloody, teeth slowly forming back together, busted, cracked lip stitching together. "That you're afraid of messing this up?"

"That's bullshit." Emily bites out, chest heaving and she wants to rip off Mike's lower jaw when he raises an eyebrow at her.

"Is it?"

Emily didn't know.

"Look, Em. We dated for a while. A long fucking time so I know you. Better than Matt, better than Jess and I know how you are." Mike says. "You're afraid and you shouldn't be. Tell her what's bothering you. Jess is great. She'll understand."

"I ate a ghoul." Emily admits quietly. "I ate a ghoul, Mike. It's not the same."

"You..." Mike gapes, eyes wide as he picks himself off the dampen grass. "You did what?"

"I don't know why." Emily does. She does know why. She wants to be stronger, she wants to protect Jess and Chris and Matt. Power comes with consumption.

"Em-"

"I know she knows. I know she does but I don't want to talk to her about it." Emily looks at him and it must be her expression, some dark, pathetic look because Mike turns away, face hardened into a frown.

"What... What do I do?" Emily doesn't like sounding weak, in this moment she does, fragile, breakable, and Mike sighs heavy, glancing back at her. His arms and hands stained red, tacky clots of darkened blood speckled across his skin.

"You should talk to her, Em."

"But-"

"You have to, Em." Mike tells her. "Does Chris know?"

Yes and he's eaten two. "Of course he does."

"Right, right," Mike waves his hand dismissively. "Of course he does. You two are going to be the death of me. What's the saying like mother, like son? I saw him. With his boyfriend or whatever, they're kind of cute together."

Emily shrugs noncommittally. 

"You're essentially Chris' mom, what do you think of Josh?"

Emily wasn't sure, there was something off about him, something familiar in the way held himself together that reminded her of someone she met when she lived with Patrick. 

"Does Ashley know? About you? Chris?"

"She suspects Chris. I'm pretty sure if she suspected me the CCG would already be at my door with an anonymous tip tucked under their arm." Emily tells him. Mike whistles.

"She fights dirty."

Emily agrees. Ashley knew a threat when she saw one, but she also liked seeing how things played out, how they worked and the fact that she liked Chris, enjoyed his company was probably the only thing that kept her from whispering his name into the CCG database. Emily hoped Ashley would continue to keep her mouth shut, otherwise.

"You got that look on your face." Mike says, wiping blood off his fully formed stomach. "That 'Bitch, better not say shit' look. You're going to kill her one day."

"Wanna help?" Emily asks, smiling.

"Yeah, sure. Not like she and I are friends. Help me up. My stomach hurts." Mike holds out a hand to her, legs stretched out on the filthy ground. Emily wrinkles her nose at him. Mike pouts.

"This is your fault, bitch!"

"Ugh! Why did I date you?" Emily snaps, clicking her tongue as she walks towards him. She grasps the dip in his arm, his hand closing around her forearm and lifts, easy, familiar like old times, Emily would say, if she was sentimental about anything beyond Chris.

"Because I'm hot? Nice stroke game? Gives good head?"

"God, forget I asked." Emily scoffs, flicking a dirt particle off her shoulder. "I hear enough about it from Matt."

Mike brightens. "Matt talks about me?"

Sometimes, when he's calm or half asleep and he'll wear that whimsical smile he used to wear whenever they used to date. Emily can hear Mike's heart quip, the slight stutter and she almost groans because of how gross it sounds, Michael Munroe in love.

"Gross. I'm leaving." Emily says, walking back down the dirt covered path. Mike snatches his jacket from on top of the pile, trailing behind her, still smiling, his white shirt ripped and stained red. The sidewalk is empty, sour smelling garbage lingering in the air.

"You gonna talk to Jess?"

"Guess so."

Mike clasps her on the shoulder, one gentle squeeze, then another. "Atta girl."

"You haven't eaten." Emily points out.

Mike chuckles, "I literally just put my stomach back in. I don't want to think about food."

"Tell your dumb boyfriend that I'll be by later."

Mike scratches the back of his head, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Uhm, actually he's staying at my place tonight so that's where he'll be. If... You want to stop be. I, actually, have to get ready for that."

Emily cocks an eyebrow at him.

Mike squirms, "I'm cooking? Human food? For a date. With candles."

"Sick." Emily's lips curl back, disgust rippling across her features. "Keep your gross gay shit to yourself."

"Yeah, yeah." Mike smiles. "I'll let you know how it goes."

Matt would probably beat him to it, but Emily shrugs, watches him head down the sidewalk, the confused looks of passerby's following. It leaves her with a warm feeling, knowing she doesn't have to worry about him or Matt. 

"Gay." Emily mutters, turning on her heel.

The walk to Jess' feels heavier, slower, each crack in the sidewalk more defined, air sharper, muted noises of humans driving past, music a dull whisper in her mind. Emily doesn't think Mike is correct in his assumptions on why she keeps things from Jess, it's how she's always been, since she was a child keeping her lack of humanity from classmates, keeping her friendship with Chris secret from her parents. 

It's the way she is. 

Jess is waiting outside her apartment, legs folded underneath her, hair damp and in a loose ponytail. She looks up when Emily walks off the elevator, eyes rimmed red and tired and Emily's chest tightens. Jess cracks a smile, shaky and small.

"Hey."

Emily swallows. "Hey."

"I text you. You didn't answer." Jess turns away, staring down at her lap. "I figured you were still.... upset. Upset with me."

"I'm not."

"Okay," is Jess' small response. She rises to her feet, pale knees red, hands smoothing down the boy shorts she's wearing. "Come in?"

"Yeah, okay."

Emily follows Jess into her apartment, taking in the slight disarray, rug torn up in the corner, white stuffing from throw pillows strewn about the floor. She considers asking but she's known Jess for a few years now to know that Jess has never questioned why Emily picks at her split ends, why she strips her bed down and rips into it before throwing everything away.

Jess plops down in an empty seat at her kitchen table, Emily taking the closest one to her. Jess sandwiches her knees between her chest and the table, hands coming to rest in between her thighs, eyes downcast and soft.

"I didn't think you'd leave. Or get upset. I wasn't trying to upset you, Em."

"I know."

"You always leave in a hurry when there's a hard conversation coming up. Why's that?"

Emily shrugs, hands folded in her lap.

"I'm not your parents, Em. I'll listen to what you have to say."

"I know." Emily responds automatically.

Jess sighs. "Do you? ..I meant it. When I said I was your girl. I'm here for you. Whatever it is. You can tell me."

Emily looks up at her, takes in the soft, delicate features, the way Jess' hair dries wavy, dark yellow under the setting sun. Grey eyes meet hers, understanding, warm.

"You know already."

Jess nods.

"It wasn't supposed to happen."

"I know."

Emily looks away. "I have to protect you."

"No you don't, Em."

But she does, Emily has to protect Jess because sometimes she's too soft, too friendly and pliant and it makes Emily's stomach twist, makes her sick. 

"Yes, I do."

"Em-"

"Ashley tried to send you away," Emily interrupts turning to Jess. "She tried to get rid of you, Jessica. She was going to place your name in the database."

"I know." Jess sighs heavily.

"I had to protect you."

"And what are you protecting me from now?"

The Goats. The Doves. Emily had a list of potential people stored under her skin, her list of pests. Jess rolls her eyes, a faint smile on her lips as she regards Emily quietly.

"I'm not inept, Emily." Jess giggles. "I may not like hunting people or killing for sport but I can still kick your ass and Mike's. We all know Chris is the weakest link, no matter how many kagunes he has. I can take care of myself and I can take care of you."

Emily stares, a bit taken back. 

"I know you ate a ghoul, Emily. I wish you hadn't but you did. You've smelt differently. I'm not stupid."

"Jess-"

"No," Jess interrupts, frowning. "Listen to me, Emily. You're a fucking idiot and I love you. We're, believe it or not, girlfriends! So I know things about you. We're best friends. I wish you and Chris didn't do what you did but it's done."

Did Jess know why she did? Why Chris did? Does she want to know? Emily studies her face, eyes trailing along the hardened will. Jess didn't want to know. 

"I love you. Talk to me about things that are bothering you. That's how this works. That's how you date Jess."

"Please don't talk about yourself in third person."

Jess grins, "You like it."

Emily scoffs, "I liked it more if we were eight or seven or never?"

"You're such a bitch." Jess laughs, kicking out her legs. "Why do I like you?"

Emily shrugs, a small smile on her face and Jess rolls her eyes, lifting up from her seat. She reaches for Emily's hand, squeezing once then twice before dragging Emily out of her seat. Emily goes, can't find it in herself to bitch for the sake of bitching and Jess wraps her arms around Emily's torso when they're both standing.

"Do you have class tomorrow?" Jess' lips brush along the shell of her ear, causing Emily to shiver. Emily frowns, unsure, mind hurrying to supply an answer. She gets an affirmative, along with a reminder that she has yet to send in her paper on Molecular plant pathology.

"I do. Can I use your computer?"

Jess nods, arms still snug around Emily's torso. She doesn't move, Emily doesn't ask, enjoys the way her hair smells as it dries, cranberries and Everglades. Jess eases back, fingers lingering on Emily's sides, eyes heavy, dark like an oncoming storm. Her lips part, nose upturn and Emily can see the thought as it forms.

She leans in to kiss her. 

Jess responds with a smile, lips stretching against Emily's as she grasps the front of her blouse, hands timid, hesitant, eyes big and grey and Emily nods, tracing the skin of Jess' stomach through her shirt. 

"There's blood on your shirt." Jess comments idly, pushing the fabric up.

"It smells like garbage." Emily responds, pulling her shirt off the rest of the way. She tosses it absently behind her, pressing her forehead to Jess'.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Jess laughs, fingers running along the newly exposed skin. "Let me guess. Mike?"

Emily makes a noise of confirmation, grasping the back of Jess' thighs and lifting. Jess giggles in Emily's ear, palms hitting the kitchen table as Emily guides her back, one hand up Jess' shirt, mouths pressed together, slow and moving. Jess kisses a lot how she talks, with intention, meaning, budding warmth that Emily wants to drown in.

Jess sighs against her, fingers in Emily's hair, tongue brushing along the roof her mouth, the whisper of a pant between them. Emily can hear the pounding of Jess' heart, hears the thunder and swell beneath her skin and it rolls along her mind like an invitation. 

"I cut out his stomach." Emily tells her, nipping along the curve of Jess' neck, eyes focused intently on the way her girlfriend's face relaxes, gaze distant. Jess snorts.

"That's so hot. I want to see."

"I'll take pictures next time." Emily promises, teeth sinking into Jess' collarbone, the salty, warm taste of her blood filling Emily's mouth. 

"Please don't eat me. I'm not into vore." Jess laughs, lifting her hips when Emily pushes her shorts down. 

"Can't believe you're kinkshaming me." Emily smiles, tugging at Jess' shirt until it tears, Jess' annoyed expression melting into one of anticipation as she watches Emily's mouth work down farther and farther. 

Emily holds her gaze, sucking a dark bruise into Jess' collarbone, one hand sliding along the curve of her left breast, warm fingers pinching and rolling the nipple until it hardens. Jess' mouth is open, tongue worrying her bottom lip, eyes heavy and locked on the way Emily closes her lips over it.

Emily smirks, taking Jess' weak glare for what it is, her other hand sliding along the inside of Jess' thigh, feeling the slight tremble. She moves lower, trailing kisses along the curve Jess' soft stomach, inching lower and lower.

A loud pounding comes to Jess' apartment door, Jess cursing loudly when Emily startles, nails digging into Jess' thighs.

"Sorry." Emily says quickly, embarrassed. 

Jess nostrils flare, a pout on her lips, nose twitching and Emily tries to focus on who could possibly be fucking knocking when she hears Chris' voice from the other side. It's low, painfully quiet like he's whispering and Emily can almost hear the panic if she wasn't busy listening to Jess' annoyed groan.

Emily leans up to kiss her, once, then twice, Jess melting into each one until her blood simmers in her body. Jess raspberries.

"God, I hate both of you." Jess whines, pushing Emily away. "You two honestly are siblings."

"Shut up, Jess." Emily reaches for her shirt, tugging it on as Jess wobbles to her bedroom, bitching lowly under her breath. Emily smiles to herself, righting her clothing as she wanders towards the front door. 

Chris' panicked expression is on the other side, masked poorly under a shaky smile. Emily tenses up. 

"What's wrong?"

"Did... I? I'm sorry." Chris hurries, adjusting his glasses and he looks frazzled, a bit lost and guilty. 

"Is he going to come in?" Jess asks from behind her. She doesn't sound irritated, just worried as if fully sensing Chris' abnormal attitude. She appears beside Emily, face confused.

Chris' mouth opens then closes, jaw hardened and Emily straightens.

"Can I steal your girlfriend?" Chris asks meekly.

Jess blinks, then nods, eyes darting between them. "Of course. Are you okay?"

"O-Oh yeah. You know. Just... Need advice."

It's a lie, all three of them know it and if it was anyone besides Chris, Emily thinks Jess would call them out on it, pissy and angry, but Jess doesn't, forces a tense smile and kisses Emily's cheek before nodding. 

Chris releases a sigh but the tension is still there, still sliding over his features like bitter wine. He takes a step back, then another, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. Emily follows, glancing back at Jess' concerned face.

"Be safe." Jess says.

"We will." Emily answers.

Jess closes the door to her apartment, Emily follows Chris to the elevator, not used to this silence between them and how heavy it feels. Chris stands close to Emily as they wait for the elevator, distracted. The elevator doors open.

Emily steps in first, facing Chris, who is now looking at the floor. He stands there, in front of the elevator, Emily pressing the door open button until he steps inside. He looks up at her.

"Sorry I ruined your day." Chris says.

"You didn't." Emily states. She wants to ask what's wrong, doesn't like the twitching irritation boiling under her skin, the need to fix what's wrong.

Chris wets his lips.

"I need your help." He tells her.

"With what?"

Chris bites his lower lip, glancing away.

"With what, Chris?" Emily snaps.

"Josh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't read over this as well because I'm on my way to work so if ya see something, holler at ya boy
> 
> Next episode: Chris didn't sign up for this shit


End file.
